Much More Than
by CopperTine
Summary: AU: Rachel doesn't know how she never noticed Quinn Fabray before, but she's paying attention now. And what she sees troubles her. Faberry endgame. Warning: sexual abuse, incest
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't the first time Rachel _saw_ her. But it was the first time Rachel remembered _noticing_ her.

And she really wondered why she'd never noticed her before. Quinn Fabray practically begged to be noticed with her pink hair and her leather apparel. But the simple truth of it was that Quinn Fabray was simply too far down on the social totem pole for one of the most popular girls in school to notice her. And she'd probably have gone on oblivious to Quinn's existence if it hadn't been for Brittany. Rachel never skipped class and made sure to take care of her lavatorial needs during a study hall or lunch. But on this day Brittany chewed too vigorously on her pen and it exploded in her mouth. The teacher had experience with similar Brittany accidents so she knew two things: Do not send Brittany to the bathroom alone because she might forget what she had been doing before and not return to class and do _not_ send Santana to escort her because that was an even better guarantee that they would disappear for the rest of the school day.

So the teacher had selected Brittany's second closest friend to escort her to and from the bathroom. Brittany had beamed at the teacher, grabbed Rachel's hand and practically pulled her out of her seat. Brittany's smile was infectious even colored with blue ink.

Brittany cleaned herself off and the girls were heading back to their classroom when there was a whirl of movement around the corner and a flash of bright pink hair, then a body slammed into the locker. Quinn sneered at the boy she'd shoved into the wall, removing her hand from his chest quickly and crossing her arms over her chest. "Stop fucking following me, Miles."

Miles Brody. Rachel recognized him as a second string footballer. The boy surged forward into Quinn's face, trying to intimidate her. Quinn didn't even flinch. "Come on Fabray, you give it up to anybody, everyone says so. Why not me?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I dunno. You smell. You're disgusting. Your hands are small and you know what _that_ means. A million reasons. Pick one."

Miles furiously raised a hand and that's when Rachel decided to step in. She stomped her foot firmly on the linoleum floor and it echoed in the empty hallway. Both Quinn and Miles turned in surprise. Rachel placed her hands on her hips and scowled deeply. Without even a word Miles fled in a panic. He was not about to cross Rachel Berry when she had people like Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman in her corner, not to mention Santana Lopez. Rachel smiled in triumph and rushed to Quinn's side. "Are you alright?"

The skin around Quinn's eyes crinkled in amusement and she looked down at the petite girl. "Rachel Berry, my, my. How chivalrous of you to step in on my behalf. I was handling it though."

"Hiya Q!" Brittany said brightly. The familiarity in Britt's voice shocked Rachel.

A softness fell over Quinn's face and she said softly, "Hello B."

"I'm glad you remember me! Sometimes I worried that you forgot me cuz we never talk and sometimes I forget people, but I never forgot you and I'd _really really_ hoped you hadn't forgot me," Brittany said earnestly, taking a step towards Quinn and opening her arms to envelope Quinn in one of her bear hugs.

But Quinn took a step back and put her arms firmly against her sides. Brittany's face instantly fell in confusion and hurt, Rachel watched as something on Quinn's face cracked ever so slightly, but then she recovered quickly and she smiled. "I'd never forget you, B. I'll catch you later, 'kay?" And just like that she disappeared down the hallway.

Brittany looked at Rachel, forlornly saying, "She said 'later' last time but later never came."

Rachel didn't know what to say to that. She hadn't even known Brittany knew Quinn Fabray. Brittany _did_ forget people sometimes, even people who she saw almost every day. If they didn't interest her (and people rarely interested Britt, not that she was mean to people) she didn't take the time to permanently catalog them. But she knew Quinn, had taken time to remember her. Even though Rachel had never seen them interact.

The two of them hurried back to their class, but for some reason Rachel had trouble focusing for the rest of the period.

.

At lunch Rachel arrived earlier than her usual lunch group and was tasked with finding an empty table for them to occupy. She wasn't surprised to see that their usual table was vacant, it was after all the cool table, but today her eyes travelled past it. She kept scanning the cafeteria until- there. Sitting alone at a table in the corner was Quinn. The girl had a book in front of her and she was sipping at a soda as she stared intently at the text. Without even being fully aware she was doing it Rachel crossed the cafeteria and delicately placed her tray across from Quinn.

Quinn looked up and the same amused expression she had worn that morning crossed her face. Rachel smiled openly at Quinn and in an almost nervous flurry she said, "Hello, Quinn Fabray. We did not formally meet this morning. Just to make sure I had the right name I checked the yearbook during study period, which was easy because Miles Brody mentioned your last name and Brittany addressed you as 'Q', although the picture in the yearbook is very different from your current appearance, you must have dyed your hair sometime within the last year and changed your clothing choices as well, because the girl in the picture had long blonde hair and wore a cream cardigan-"

"Berry, could you take a breath and stop commenting on the way I look?"

Rachel ducked her head and blushed furiously. What on earth was that? She'd never gotten so nervous in her entire high school career. Well...not since that first month. She was _Rachel Berry_ for crying our loud. Captain of the Glee Club, unofficial manager of the Cheerios, the head of almost every club in McKinley High. She was popular and respected and she didn't _get_ nervous. But something about the teasing sparkle in Quinn's eyes made Rachel's stomach flip and her words stumble.

"I apologize. In no way did I mean to offend-"

"You didn't offend me Berry," Quinn cut off again. The mirth was still on her face but Rachel could see an undercurrent of annoyance starting to bloom in her eyes. Rachel steadied her breathing. _Stop making a fool of yourself, Rachel Barbra Berry. Calm down and _focus_. No tangents. I thought you kicked the habit._

She started again. "I just wanted to introduce myself outside of that rather heated situation. I am Rachel Berry."

Quinn chuckled softly and replied, "You do know that it's impossible to go to McKinley and _not_ know who you are right? Top-of-the-totem-pole-Berry?"

"I know, but I wanted to meet you and figure that marching in just assuming you would know who I am would be extremely rude."

A coldness unlike anything Rachel had ever seen settled over Quinn's eyes and Rachel got a chill that was strangely familiar. "And why do you want to 'meet me' all of a sudden," Quinn asked in a flat voice. Her tone suggested that she didn't particularly _care_ why and wasn't too pleased by the idea. Rachel had no clue how Quinn had gone from playful teasing to stone cold irritation, nor did she have any idea _why_. What had she done?

"B-because...you seemed nice and...a-and Britt likes you, and she's very particular," Rachel stumbled. But the truth of it was that she didn't know why she'd become do determined to get to know Quinn.

Quinn's eyes flashed and she snapped, "Well sorry to disappoint, but I'm not nice. And B shouldn't like me. I haven't talked to her in years." Rachel saw something that looked suspiciously like pain cross her face quickly. But then it was gone and Quinn was standing and picking up her things. "Nice talking to you short-stack. I hope it doesn't become a habit."

Rachel started to protest but Quinn was gone fast. All she could do was sit in dumb disbelief. What had she done _wrong_?

"Were you talking to the ice queen Fabray?"

Rachel turned to look behind her, where her two best friends Brittany and Santana were looking at her with their individual expressions of confusion; Brittany's eyes wide and mouth agape, Santana's eyes narrowed and lips pursed firmly shut. Rachel smiled warmly. Just about opposite in every obvious way except where it really counted. The cheerleaders souls fit together like puzzle pieces. At times their bond made Rachel envious.

"Hello? Earth to the little elf. I asked you a question Rach," Santana snapped as she placed her tray down where Quinn had been sitting with a loud clatter. Anyone but Rachel and Brittany would have flinched at Santana's tone. Instead Rachel looked at her coolly until both San and Britt had settled before replying, "Yes, I was talking to Quinn. After meeting her in the hallway I thought I could get to know her, but the instant I suggested anything of the sort she ran out of here for no reason."

"You met her in the hall?" Santana asked and she gave Brittany a startled look.

"I was gonna tell you but then we got distracted by sweet lady kisses," Brittany said with a pout. "Q was being chased by a mean footballer but Rach and I got him to go away."

Santana's face darkened for an instant, then it vanished and she shrugged. "Don't get bent out of shape, R. Queenie Quinn won't let anyone get past her glacier walls."

"Do you know her?"

Santana paused for a moment, then said, "She was our Cheerios cap for about a week in freshman year. That's about it."

"San, don't you dare lie," Brittany scolded. Santana crossed her arms over her chest and scowled deeply. Brittany turned to Rachel and said, "Quinn was our BFF all through middle school. We were gonna run McKinley together, but a week in she quit Cheerios and said we'd just hang out outside of cheerleading. But she stopped talking to us." Britt's eyes moistened and she bit her lip.

A memory tugged at Rachel but just as quickly her subconscious pushed it away. Both Brittany and Santana watched her face apprehensively for a moment. Rachel gave them both puzzled looks. "What are you staring at? It's not like I'm mad I didn't know you were friends. I didn't know either of you until about a month into high school."

Brittany and Santana exchanged a look and wordlessly agreed to leave it at that. It was, however, not in Rachel's nature to do such a thing.

.

Quinn was finishing lunch in the library for the first time since freshman year. She was not pleased to say the least. Stupid Rachel Berry and ruining her system. She just wanted _off_ the radar. Bad enough B had tried to strike up a conversation as if nothing had happened since they were fourteen. It'd taken almost three months of eating in the library and a complete ice out for San and Britt to try to stop contacting her. If the hobbit had ruined all that, Quinn was going to kill her.

The bell rang and Quinn headed off to her customary place under the bleachers. Quinn had a deal going with all of her teachers: she would keep getting straight As and come in for tests and turn in homework every day in their mailboxes in the office and they'd mark her in attendance every day. The only annoying teacher who hated this arrangement was her Spanish teacher, a young and optimistic man named Mr. Schuester. He made her come to his classes every damn day, or else he'd give her detention. He thought that he could make Quinn some sort of case of his and "save her", never mind that she was one of his best students anyway. He even tried every few weeks to get her to join the obnoxious Glee Club. Quinn wasn't about to join the second most popular club in McKinley. Not even for special treatment and no detention for the rest of her school career.

Mr. Schuester was fucking infuriating. Quinn didn't know what Ms. Pillsbury saw in him.

When Quinn got to the bleachers the band of Skanks was already there. Quinn was their unofficial leader, but the great thing about the Skanks was that they didn't expect a thing from her. It was a gang of three girls whose sole goal in high school seemed to be no bathing and to be as outcast as they could possibly be.

Quinn understood not wanting to be part of the crowd. But not to be contrary, like the other three girls. Quinn just really hated having to interact with people.

Their names were Sheila, Ronnie and The Mack. Quinn didn't talk to them much, which they seemed to take as a sign of her authority. It helped to have a posse. If they felt their leader was threatened they converged like worker bees and attacked. Just another line of defense to keep people away from Quinn.

The Skanks acknowledged Quinn with nods and went back to talking about how lame everyone else was. Quinn sat down on the couch she'd acquired for them about a year ago and began to read again.

But apparently this day was cursed.

Mr. Schue, in all his mostly imagined authority, just happened to be walking by. Quinn could tell he was already in a bad mood, probably from another meeting with Coach Sylvester. Even though the Cheerios and the Glee Club shared a good fourth of their members Schue and Sylvester hated one another. Sylvester liked to bug Schue as much as possible every chance she got without actually sabotaging Glee Club. And she was always trying to get her favorite three students to quit Glee and devoted all their time to the Cheerios. But Rachel Berry's first love was song so she never would.

So Mr. Schuester was having one of his tantrums and when he saw the Skanks he zeroed in on Quinn and angrily marched up to her. "What do you think you're doing Ms. Fabray?" He demanded. Without even waiting for an answer he grabbed the fabric on her shoulder and hauled her to her feet.

"Assault!" Quinn growled at Mr. Schue.

Schuester just shook her, eyes angry and disappointed, and rose his voice to accuse, "You could be so much better, Quinn. I don't understand you!"

"Understanding me is not a requirement," Quinn replied. Her Skanks hung back but were obviously frustrated that they couldn't defend their Queen. But even they wouldn't stand up to a teacher.

"What do you think you're doing, marmalade head?" Quinn and Mr. Schuester turned in surprise. Sue Sylvester stood with her hands on her hips at the entrance to the bleachers. "Is your new hobby accosting young ladies on school property? Moved on from the young boys, have you, Will?"

Mr. Schue immediately let go of Quinn but he stood his ground. "Quinn was ditching classes again, Sue. I was taking her to the principal's office."

"Seems to me you were just yelling at her very unprofessionally," Sylvester said with an evil smirk. "Is she even one of your little chirpers? I thought Fabray was one of the students who had enough sense to stay far far away from your little club."

"She's not in Glee but she's still my responsibility as one of my students. I can't stand to see her throw away her potential."

Coach Sylvester turned cold blue eyes to regard Quinn. "Fabray, how are your grades?"

"Straight As, Coach," Quinn replied automatically. Even though she had only been a Cheerio for one week, Sue Sylvester was still Quinn's coach as far as she was concerned. Sue smirked and turned back to Mr. Schue.

"Seems that little Quinnie here is smart enough that she can fly through school without listening to the insipid drawling of the idiot faculty and she knows it. In my book that makes her the most intelligent student at this school, even if she did stupidly quit my Cheerios."

"There are rules," Will protested angrily.

Coach Sylvester took a step forward and lowered her voice. "Let me tell you a little something about rules and special people, Will. Special people like me and Fabray don't have to follow rules. Rules are for the sheep who can't figure out that two plus two equals four unless they're told. Fabray already gets the world and she uses that knowledge to do as she pleases. She'll get somewhere with that, even if her hair is the color of Pepto Bismol and she tattoos a piece of bacon across her forehead. You on the other hand will be stuck teaching mindless teenagers how to wipe their butts for the rest of your life. God knows what Berry, Pierce and Lopez see in you."

Schuester puffed up with indignation but didn't have a rebuttle. With one final glance at Quinn he fled. It was impossible to battle Sylvester on a _good_ day.

"Thanks, Coach," Quinn said softly. Sue eyed Quinn with narrowed eyes, then nodded. "You're still one of mine, Q. As much of a failure as you were for my expectations." Quinn fidgeted under her coach's gaze. She always got the sense that Sue could read her thoughts and that was a scary idea. Coach Sylvester kept eying Quinn, then said, "Come with me. If Schuester goes whining to Figgins I can say I punished you with manual labor."

With that Sue turned and started to march away. Quinn didn't hesitate to follow for an instant. Coach had done her a huge solid and she wasn't going to mess it up by not doing what she asked for the day. Coach Sylvester lead her toward the locker room and Quinn assumed she'd be picking up towels and throwing them in a washer for the next hour. But when Quinn entered the locker room she froze. The entire Cheerios squad plus their student manager Rachel fucking Berry were assembled and waiting. When the coach saw Quinn's shock she grinned devilishly and said, "I arranged for a free period for the Cheerios and Twinkles to practice today. They're horribly unprepared for even the smallest of cheerleading competitions this year and nothing says 'work harder' than a few punishment practices right after lunch."

"And you want me to do what?" Quinn asked flatly, trying hard not to look at the three girls standing in front who were now staring at her intently.

"Teach the loser freshman that cheer you were working on before you bailed on the one good thing you could have had at this school."

"Are you crazy?" Quinn asked before thinking. "That was over two years ago. Why on earth would you expect me to remember?"

"Because you had the most potential for a star cheerleader I have ever seen. Maybe not the most athletic girl, but you were a captain before I even handed you the title," Sue said sharply. Quinn flinched but tried to hide it, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. The most annoying thing about the entire situation was that she did remember the damn routine. Sue didn't even have to be told.

"What makes you think I'll do this? I'm not a Cheerio."

"Seems to me you owe me one. I could have you little perfectly sculpted butt in detention before you could trip into another scruffy leather-clad boy's arms."

Quinn lifted her chin defiantly but didn't say a word.

"Alright, groups of three," Sue yelled and all her Cheerios began to scramble. "Advanced with B, normal with S, failures with Q. Twinkles, make sure everyone's doing what they need to do. Becky, with me. We have files to shred." A girl Quinn didn't know rushed after Sue eagerly.

A group of girls stood expectantly in front of Quinn, either confused or nervous or openly sneering at her appearance, obviously doubting her cheerleading abilities or convinced Coach Sylvester was setting Quinn up for failure. Quinn ground her teeth in frustration. Well, if she was going to do this, these little freshman were not allowed to doubt or talk back. Quinn sighed and ran a hand through her bright pink hair, then her entire demeanor changed. Shoulders back, feet together, hands on her hips, head-bitch-in-charge face so terrifying all the sneers and confusion disappeared in the blink of an eye to be replaced by fear. "What do you losers think you're still doing in this changing room? Gym. NOW!" They fled.

Quinn chuckled under her breath. She still had it.

She followed them out of the McKinley gymnasium, where the other two groups were already practicing. Berry sat on the sidelines and would occasionally call the name of a girl not pulling her weight. That girl would immediately snap to attention.

Quinn walked over to her disorganized group and snapped, "Three lines of four, bitches. Eyes on me." She spun so her back was to them and walked through the steps exactly once, then spun back and demanded they repeated flawlessly. The girls frantically tried to repeat what they'd seen but only managed to collide into one another haphazardly. Quinn grimaced and started to yell corrections.

This continued for about an hour, until Coach Sylvester emerged from her sanctum and called everyone to attention. "Status report, Rachel!" she shouted.

Rachel began to recite from a notepad. When she got to Quinn's group she paused, then said, "More improvement than expected. Still not up to par with the rest of the squad, but-"

"Buts belong in spandex, not sentences. Fabray, I should have known you wouldn't be up to the task. Back here tomorrow after lunch," Sylvester ordered.

Quinn scowled and crossed her arms. "No way! This was a one-off. It's not my fault you picked freshman who can't learn one measly routine. I'm done."

Sue's voice lowered and she smiled evilly as she said, "Not until those girls are in tip-top shape you're not. Or I'll personally make sure you get detention every day until my girls place first. Which will be impossible at the rate we're going."

"Ms. Sylvester, I must protest! This is blackmail-" Rachel started to exclaim.

"Course it is Twinkles. It's what I do." Rachel deflated a little. Sue turned back to Quinn. "With you in charge of the losers it'll take you two weeks tops to get them all synced with the rest. It's not the worst job I could give you." Quinn bit her lip, but she was trapped. Detention would me no Celibacy Club, the best part of her days.

"Two weeks max. If they aren't ready by then they're unteachable."

"Agreed," Coach immediately said, ignoring the freshmen's nervous twitters. "And Fabray, wear the uniform. You're as stiff as cardboard in those jeans. How are the tweedledums supposed to see flawless cheering in that?"

"Only here," Quinn growled.

"Get out now," Sue said triumphantly. She looked at her Cheerios. "_All_ of you!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Do either of you know why Quinn quit Cheerios? She was really good today," Rachel asked as she, Santana and Brittany headed toward Glee club after school.

Santana looked pissed by the line of questioning but Brittany shook her head and replied, "Nope. She just left without a word. It was real weird too cuz it was all she could talk about over the summer. She was _so_ excited. Coach basically fell in love with her the second they met. She was the first freshman Captain _ever_. Coach gave her the title the Friday before she quit. She came back on Monday and handed in her uniform."

"She looked like she was enjoying herself today. I wonder why she gave it all up."

Santana halted in the middle of the hallway and turned to Rachel, eyes afire. "Don't matter why she quit. _She_ don't matter. Just _stop_ trying to figure her out, Rach! You won't ever. 'Sides, if she hadn't quit we'd never have become friends, mi hermana. So don't even wonder, cuz this is what was meant to be. Entiendes?"

Rachel nodded quickly, completely thrown off guard by Santana's angry outburst. Santana turned on her heel and headed toward club. Brittany took Rachel's hand and squeezed comfortingly. "San was super hurt when Quinn stopped talking to us. Me too, but my hurt stays hurt. San's hurt turns into anger, but it's all still the same. I still miss Quinn and I think San does, too. But I'm glad Quinn stopped talking to us cuz it meant we became friends with you." Brittany beamed at Rachel happily, but then her face became serious and she said quietly, "But sometimes I wish Q would be our friend again and then all four of us could be besties." With that she took her hand out of Rachel's and jogged after Santana.

Rachel frowned at the floor. Quinn seemed to have been important in Brittany and Santana's lives. Why would she drop them? Rachel knew from experience they were some of the best friends anyone could ever have. And from the looks of it Quinn was all alone at McKinley. Did she not _want_ friends? How could that be? Why would someone purposefully ostracize themselves from everyone? There _must_ be a reason.

No one deserved to be lonely. Least of all someone as pretty as Quinn.

What? Where did that thought come from? Pretty?

Sure Quinn was pretty, but what did that have to do with _anything_? Rachel shook her head as if to clear it.

Still, she wanted to reach out to Quinn. The girl looked so isolated and unhappy. And that made Rachel ache. Maybe she could befriend Quinn and help mend the relationship between the three former friends! Brittany would be so happy and Santana would most certainly be grudgingly grateful. An image of the four of them laughing and sitting together at lunch filled Rachel with a surprising rush of happiness. Yes! It was all coming together nicely. No wonder she had zeroed in on Quinn. Her sixth sense had kicked in so that she could help.

Rachel squared her shoulders proudly and walked the rest of the way to Glee Club with new determination.

As soon as she rounded the corner her smile grew exponentially. _This_ was her home. She liked being popular and she liked helping out with Cheerios, but glee club was all she truly needed. This was absolutely where she belonged.

"Uh oh, she has that look on her face," her friend Kurt Hummel said teasingly. "What's the big idea now, mon capitan?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry Kurt, nothing to do with Glee unfortunately."

Kurt sighed dramatically. "Pity. We are so unprepared for Sectionals. Mr. Schue, _tell_ me you have ideas in the works."

Rachel took a seat as Mr. Schuester began to throw out ideas. As Glee captain she _should_ be giving feedback, but she was so absorbed in her new plan. There were over thirty kids in glee club, someone would come up with something. It didn't have to be all down to her.

When she'd joined the glee club in freshman year, it had been run by a Mr. Sandy Ryerson. She had been the only new kid to join. When she befriended Brittany and Santana a few months in, Brittany had liked the sound of singing and dancing for people, so she and Santana had joined. Shortly after Santana had gotten Mr. Ryerson fired for being creepy and pervy (her words, Rachel didn't know all the details). Mr. Schuester had stepped up, and because of the new school Queen Bee Santana's endorsement, people had trickled in. People who genuinely liked to sing, people who just wanted to sit near the popular spotlight. It didn't matter. Glee Club accepted everyone. Rachel made sure of that. She wanted anyone to feel safe and welcome. Her first month of high school had been positively _awful_. Name calling, books shoved out of her hands, things thrown. If she hadn't ended up helping Britt with math one day (and being genuinely nice to her, not condescending and superior like everyone else), Rachel dreaded to think what high school would have been like.

Rachel adored Brittany immediately, because honestly who wouldn't? And anyone who liked Brittany was OK in Santana's books. And the rest was history. Santana got people to stop being mean to Rachel under penalty of being sent to the bottom of the school pyramid, and soon Rachel herself became popular.

Glee Club was a place for anyone to belong.

Of the kids in Glee, Rachel was friends with only a few and acquaintances with the rest. Footballers Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford had been some of the first boys to join, along with fashionista Kurt Hummel and band geek Artie Abrams. And besides Rachel's trio, the first two girls to join had been Mercedes Jones and Tina Cohen-Chang. They were the originals, the kids who loved to sing and dance. Some of the newer members liked to as well, but most were content to sway in the background for a chance to say they were a part of McKinley's popular New Directions.

But the nice thing about McKinley's relatively new world order was that you didn't need to be in New Directions to be treated nicely.

Once Rachel had obtained any sort of social power, she'd tried her best to put an end to all bullying. Word out was that if you were a bully you were lowest of the low in the social rankings. Rachel couldn't cut it _all_ out of course, as one of the popular kids sole weapons to keep other kids in line was their tongue and it was impossible to completely pull in Santana. But no physical stuff was tolerated. No throwing into dumpsters, shoving, kicking, throwing things. All gone.

Rachel prided herself in McKinley's golden age.

Rachel raised her hand and attentive silence fell. "Mr. Schuester," she said in her most animated voice, "Perhaps a selection from the popular musical In The Heights? As a powerful Latina, Santana would most certainly rock out the song 'Breathe'."

Santana elbowed Rachel affectionately and Brittany clapped at the suggestion. All was well in Rachel Berry's world.

.

Rachel had one idea about her regime. Quinn had another.

Not that Rachel hadn't improved the lives of geeks at McKinley. She had. Geeks were out of bounds. But bullies had to direct their animosity _somewhere_ apparently. Since geeks were promoted, the second least popular band had been shoved to the bottom. The wasteoids and the skanks, the goths and the quiet kids not affiliated with any official grouping. Quinn found herself lumped with the new targets of all the bullies.

The once mostly ignored kids now had to watch their backs. Burnout boys were thrown in dumpsters and locked in port-a-potties and beat up and no one noticed because those kids hardly went to classes _anyway_. No one worried about a missing skank, they were perpetually missing. Quinn couldn't count the times she'd gone looking for one of her pseudo-friends to find them cornered in some deserted hallway, surrounded by laughing boys. More than once she'd had her shirt pulled away from her back to have freezing slushie dumped down it.

And there was that time she'd found one of the hockey players pining Mack to a wall. His hand was up her shirt and Mack was crying. Quinn had broken the boy's nose and almost got suspended, but Ms. P stepped in on her behalf.

McKinley High was still a crap school. Just in a different way.

But Quinn could deal. She could put up with the catcalls of "whore" and "slut", even though not one boy at McKinley could truthfully claim to have laid a hand on her or seen anything besides her wearing a swimsuit for gym. It wasn't as if they were technically wrong, not that any of them could ever know that. She could deal with the shoves and the crude notes and people stealing her shit. It was all better than home.

Besides, she had two hours of absolute peace every day after school.

No one was in Celibacy Club but her and Ms. P.

According to the rules, a club wasn't allowed to exist with only one student. But Ms. Pillsbury had gotten Figgins to make an exception. She thought more kids might eventually join and promoting abstinence was in Figgins' best interest. No one else ever did join. Which was absolutely perfect for Quinn.

If Quinn had one friend, it was Ms. Pillsbury.

Ms. Pillsbury was kind and didn't pressure Quinn to 'participate'. Most of the time they passed the two hours of club reading quietly. Sometimes Quinn would tell Ms. P about what she was reading or offer her book recommendations.

At the beginning of each club meeting, Ms. Pillsbury would pull out a tupperware and open it to reveal two triangle halves of a PB&J with the crusts cut off. One side belonged to Quinn. They'd eat and then talk or read or both. And at the end of each club meeting Ms. P would pull out a bible and they'd flip to a random page, point, and that was officially the stanza they'd discussed at length in club that day.

Quinn lived for Celibacy Club.

When Quinn told Ms. Pillsbury about the blackmail, the usually calm and peaceable ginger-haired woman visibly reddened with fury. Ms. P _hated_ Coach Sylvester. According to her, "We have enough student bullies that not a person in the faculty can keep a hold on. The fact that we have one _on staff_ is appalling." Ms. P wanted to go to Figgins with it but Quinn calked her out of it. Because honestly, it wasn't any big deal. And as Quinn saw it, after two weeks of free help Coach would be on the owing side of things.

At Quinn's explanation that she had owed Coach a favor after the run-in with Schuester, Ms. Pillsbury shook her head, trying to hide the look of affection that crossed her face. "Mr. Schuester just worries about you, Quinn. You're an exceptional student and he's scared you'll throw it away.

"But I _haven't_," Quinn muttered impatiently. "I've been a good student since day one and my grades never slip. He has no right to judge if I'm living up to my potential if I'm consistently acing his tests and turning in homework. Just because I look a certain way and do certain things-"

"Well, I get that, Quinn. And I've talked to him about it. He just has this idea that if everyone acts like they don't care you will _stop_. We don't get many like you, Quinn. The truth of it is that you'd be this school's pride and joy if you didn't dress the way you do or skip all your classes. But you're not 'marketable' to the parents or school board. So even though you're a golden student a lot of the teachers see you as a lost cause."

Quinn bristled and snarled," Well, I'm glad I'm not some product to be auctioned off or some shit, Ms. P!"

"Language," Ms. Pillsbury chided gently. She smiled and Quinn relaxed as she only could with the counselor. Ms. P looked at her like- well, it couldn't be love. But it seemed close. "I know. And in many ways, I'm glad you're not that girl. You're _you_ and this is the Quinn I share a sandwich with every day." Ms. P giggled softly against her fingertips. "Maybe I'm selfish, but I don't want to have to share you with the other teachers. And I know you, I know you'll do just fine out there." But then she paused and her big doe eyes went somber. "I worry about you sometimes too, though."

Quinn looked away and said awkwardly, "I know Ms. P. It's sweet of you, cuz I know it's not just cuz you feel obligated to. But I'm fine, you don't have to give me a second thought."

Ms. Pillsbury's eye looked sad. They sometimes got that way when she looked at Quinn. Like she knew there was something wrong just below the surface but she couldn't see it clearly through the ice. Sometimes it made Quinn scared. What if Ms. P started to push too much? Would she have to give up celibacy club, too? The only thing that kept her going? Ms. P never did push. Quinn knew if she had any idea she _would_ push. But she didn't. Quinn would keep it that way.

"So what are you reading today?"

Quinn smiled genuinely and opened her book.

.

Rachel had a plan of attack.

According to Quinn's schedule (she had her ways of getting these things), they had almost the same classes every period. Problem was, Quinn was never _in_ any of them except Spanish that Rachel could remember, even though her attendance record was practically absence-free. A chat with the principal's office secretary revealed that Quinn came in every morning at 7:30 and dropped off all her homework into the teacher's mailboxes, and she showed for all tests. Since she was an A student and that reflected well on their teaching, not one of the teachers complained about the system. One less potential disturbance to deal with.

Rachel didn't want to sneak attack Quinn, so she decided her best bet would be to be as friendly as possible for the two weeks that Quinn would be working with the Cheerios. Build a rapport and after the two weeks were up invite her to hang out. Maybe be partners with her for some kind of Spanish project. Small things. When Rachel had been younger she'd had a problem with being too intense with people. She still had a powerful personality, but had learned to not overwhelm people as she once had. It felt terribly _slow_, but her success rate had gone up a great deal.

She had not been prepared for Cheerio Quinn.

When Quinn came out of the changing room wearing a Cheerios uniform, Rachel's jaw dropped. She looked like she belonged in one even with the pink hair. Quinn had tied her hair up a bit from its wild mane-like quality. It was tucked loosely behind each ear where it hadn't been caught up in the ponytail. She wore less coal black eyeliner and her lips were moist with gloss.

She looked _so_ kissable.

Rachel blushed from top to bottom at the stray thought. She spun away and made a dash for a bench on the sidelines, but not before Quinn let out a harsh laugh and yelled, "Glad you picked your jaw up off the floor before any drool could make some Cheerios slip and fall."

"Shut your trap, Fabray," Santana yelled from where she and Brittany were stretching out. Quinn extended a middle finger the latina's way but Rachel noticed that Quinn wouldn't look at her. Rachel heard some muted Spanish swear words and then Brittany's quiet soothing tone.

Rachel breathed out shakely, then stood up again and walked back toward Quinn. Screw embarrassment. She would live. Quinn looked startled but tried to cover it up with a smirk. "And what do you want, Berry? I don't even understand exactly why you're _here_. Is McKinley's new mascot a gnome?"

"That's it!" Santana screeched from across the gym and Brittany had to grab her to stop her from running at Quinn. Rachel saw Quinn's entire body switch to defense far too easily. Upon further inspection, Rachel noticed a slight discoloration towards the middle of Quinn's forearm. Was that a bruise? Rachel felt an uncomfortable sinking in her stomach.

"Relax, San," Rachel called over her shoulder. Quinn's gaze shifted to Rachel and she narrowed her eyes in distrust. Rachel smiled and said in a gentle voice, "You don't have to be so defensive, Quinn. We'd all love to be friends here." She wanted more than anything to reach out and place a comforting hand on Quinn's arm, but every instinct in her body told her it would be ill-received. So instead she just smiled openly, hoping that putting herself so far out would be enough of a start.

"Fuck that! I don't want to be her friend!" Santana said angrily. Quinn's face became impassive and Rachel's heart broke. Lost in an instant. But then the pink-haired girl shrugged and muttered in a low voice, "Whatever. I can play nice for two weeks. Sorry about the comments, Berry." And she went over to her assembled group.

Hope fluttered in Rachel's chest.

.

As the week passed, Quinn began to become playfully teasing again, as she was on that first day in the hallway. But Rachel started to notice as it became more genuine. Santana still wouldn't speak to her and Quinn avoided both Santana and Brittany, but every break in Cheerios practice Rachel would seek her out and strike up a conversation. At first, Quinn had seemed both parts mystified and annoyed by Rachel's persistence but soon Quinn started to tease and then laugh with and then _smile_ during their chats. Every time Quinn would smile genuinely even just a little, it filled Rachel with an indescribable amount of joy.

On Friday when Quinn said, "See you next Monday," instead of just leaving without a word like she had the days before, Rachel knew she'd made a thread of connection.

The marked improvement in the girls Quinn was coaching made Ms. Sylvester as close to happy as she ever got. All she said on the matter was, "About time," but Rachel could see she was pleased.

Over the weekend, when Santana and Brittany came over, Santana complained loudly about the amount of effort Rachel was putting into trying to befriend Quinn, but Rachel ignored her. Britt looked uncertain about the whole situation but finally asked in a hopeful tone, "Do you think Quinn is starting to like us again?"

"I don't think she ever stopped," Rachel answered honestly. Everything about Quinn screamed loneliness and loss and when she thought no one was looking she would glance longingly at her former friends. Rachel still had no idea why she'd pushed them away in the first place, but she had the distinct impression Quinn hadn't wanted to.

At her response, Britt's brow furrowed in confusion and she looked like she wanted to question it, but one look at Santana's furious face made her stop.

On Monday, the fates aligned. Mr. Schuester announced a group project. Groups of four. It could not have gone better if Rachel had planned it (ignoring the fact that she had subtly mentioned a lack of group projects to Mr. Schue the week before). Rachel shot out of her seat and went to the back, where Quinn was writing something in a notebook and looking irritated at the prospect of working with others. When she noticed Rachel, wariness settled in her eyes. "What, Berry."

"Be our fourth?"

Quinn bit her lip and her eyes traveled past Rachel. Rachel turned to see Santana glaring daggers from across the room. But Rachel was relieved to see that both Cheerios were waiting to see what would happen rather than looking for a fourth themselves. "It doesn't exactly look like I'm wanted," Quinn said hoarsely, trying to keep her voice sounding bored instead of pained.

"I want you," Rachel blurted before should could stop herself.

Quinn's eyes narrowed and Rachel flinched. There was a long moment of silence, and then a grin formed on Quinn's face and she laughed. "Relax, Berry. Keep your lust in check and I'll be your fourth. Don't know if you're fully aware of what you're getting into here, but I can't say anyone else was chomping at the bit to work with me."

"Bits are cruel and should not be used on horses," Rachel fumbled. Quinn rolled her eyes as Rachel mentally kicked herself. Honestly, it was as if she developed some sort of mental block around Quinn Fabray.

Quinn followed Rachel back to her seat and waved half-heartedly at the two Cheerios watching her intently. Santana was practically vibrating with rage and kept shooting glares Rachel's way. Brittany had her hands in front of her chest and was nervously fumbling with her fingers until finally she couldn't seem to take it anymore and she said, "I'm afraid I'll say something wrong and you'll leave again and then we'll never ever get a chance to be friends."

Like magic the icy wall around Quinn melted away and her face was open and gentle as she said, "You don't have to be scared, B, I'm not going to up and leave. We're partners now. I'm sorry for scaring you."

At these words Brittany relaxed completely and she beamed at Quinn. Without hesitation she closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around Quinn solidly. Quinn stiffened. After a moment she returned the hug, but Rachel didn't miss Quinn's shaking fingers before they locked around Brittany.

"Oh good! I can't wait to be your partner. We can be _friends_ again and San and I will totally get you to like Rachel even though I knew you wanted to not like her freshman year, but I think that was-"

"Britt," Santana said sharply, and three heads turned in shock her way because she was _never_ sharp with Brittany. "Don't get attached. Don't let her _fool_ you. She's just gonna leave again after this project's done. We aren't going to be friends again." Santana stepped forward and locked eyes with Quinn over Brittany's shoulder. She stared her down threateningly until Quinn lowered her eyes, then sneered as she said, "I know you, Fabray, don't forget that for a second. Don't you _dare_ lead B on and go off and break her heart all over again. I'll kill you if you do."

"I wasn't going to," Quinn breathed into the fabric of Brittany's uniform. She stepped away from Brittany with her eyes downcast and hands back woodenly at her sides. "It's just a project Brittany. Listen to Santana, OK?"

Brittany looked on the verge of tears, glancing uncertainly between the three girls around her. Rachel stepped forward and took Brittany's hand. "Both of you need to _stop it_," she said firmly to Quinn and Santana. "Neither of you know what's going to happen. Britt was just happy. You don't have to be so protective of B's feelings, San, she can handle herself quite well. And Quinn, don't you _dare_ let Santana bully you into backing off. That's not the Quinn I've seen this past week. Now sit down and shut up if your comments from now until the end of this period don't have anything to do with this group project."

Santana huffed something in Spanish but sat down obediently. Quinn stared at Rachel in astonishment for a second before doing the same. She pulled out a notepad and hid a smile behind its open pages.


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING: Graphic sexual abuse ahead. I'll denote where it begins and ends with ... instead of . as a paragraph break.**

With both Cheerios practice and a Spanish project, Rachel was slowly working her way into the cracks of Quinn's defenses. Rachel was steady and persistent in her pursuits to get absolutely _anything_ out of Quinn. A smile, a laugh, a friendly comment. As these responses became more and more frequent, Rachel started to notice a strange flutter in her chest at even the sight of the pink-haired punk. Rachel started to observe and appreciate new positive qualities that Quinn had. Like how even though she was a Skank, she bathed properly and always smelled faintly of lemons. And how her nose ring was a little crystal stud that sometimes caught the light just the right way. How her steps were light and graceful even wearing big, clumpy combat boots. How her eyes were hazel flecked with gold and when her smile was for _once_ honest, the gold would seem to sparkle as if they were actually shavings of the precious metal imbedded in her eyes.

But noticing the good meant noticing the difference between a happy Quinn and a normal Quinn. Genuine smiles were few and far between. Her eyes were most frequently cold or dead, with the latter being most common and most heart-wrenching. When she put on a fake smile it looked like sculpted plastic, perfect at first glance so that no one noticed the complete lie behind it. Sometimes her smile became feral and cruel and those times Rachel had to look away in wordless terror. And noticing that Quinn's skin was porcelain pale and generally flawless meant noticing the instant the smallest bruise or injury would mar her flesh. It happened with unnerving frequency. A patch of smooth skin would be perfect one day and have the tiniest mark the next. Once Rachel even noticed one appear between Spanish and Cheerios. When she'd ask on it, Quinn had looked at her blankly and said in a flat voice, "I'm clumsy." But not one thing about Quinn Fabray could claim to be clumsy in the slightest. Rachel knew that because, well, she _had_ been watching her near obsessively for almost two weeks now.

All Rachel could do was anxiously push her observations to the back of her mind. Because the bad could mean so much worse and the _good_ that Rachel saw could mean… not good at all for Rachel.

.

The end of the second week came too quickly. Quinn's charges were on par with the rest of the normal ranked Cheerios and she was officially out of the grasp of Coach Sylvester. Quinn wouldn't be coming back to practice. The very thought made Rachel's stomach hurt. But they still had weeks yet to do their Spanish project and this was the only thing keeping Rachel from going into a panic. She still had time to get Quinn to be their friend.

Interaction between Quinn and Santana had improved at a snail's pace. Meaning that they now didn't talk to one another and refrained from flinging insults. Which was a relief since the yells of "whore" and "lesbo" that had occurred during their first out-of-class meet-up had been particularly brutal. Quinn and Brittany were now on speaking terms, but every time B would try to inch forward, Quinn's wall would go firmly back into place. So their relationship stayed frozen in place. But Brittany didn't stop trying.

The one relationship that had grown comfortably was the one between Rachel and Quinn. Quinn would now look for Rachel on a regular basis upon entering a room. And once she'd even _come up_ to Rachel first during a break. The progress was noticeable. Not as much as Rachel would have _wanted_ perhaps, but Rachel did always aim high.

So when the week ended, Rachel caught up to Quinn after the practice and asked if they could work on the project sometime after school.

Quinn froze and her eyes went wide. There was a long, unbearable pause. Quinn shifted her weight slightly away from Rachel and averted her eyes. In a low voice she said, "Would Santana and Brittany come? Because I don' think that would work."

"They don't have to," Rachel said uncertainly.

Quinn's lips pressed together in a thin line. She kept opening her mouth as if to say something, then just as abruptly would close it. Finally she closed her eyes and when she opened them a steel had returned to them. "My house, after school, next Monday. Three-thirty to five." She said it in such a way that Rachel was sure there was a hidden 'take it or leave it' buried in the text. Rachel nodded. Quinn turned and walked away without any further exchange.

And now Rachel had all weekend to prepare.

.

When Ms. P heard the new development, that one Rachel Berry was going to be going home with Quinn on Monday, she became so excited that she let out a literal squeal of joy and started bombarding Quinn with questions and tips. Quinn rolled her eyes affectionately. Ms. P had been practically bursting at the seams since Rachel had taken an interest in Quinn and Quinn wasn't immediately shoving the girl away. She was more excited for this 'budding friendship' than Quinn herself. "Having friends is an important and necessary part of high school life," Ms. Pillsbury informed Quinn every chance that she got. Quinn didn't think that was true, she was _fine_ without friends, but Rachel wasn't… horrible to have around. But the fact that she came with S & B kinda was. It was like a slap to the face by the cosmic forces of whatever, like God reminding her daily, "You can't have friends, Quinn Fabray. They might notice something up."

_A year and a half. You can make it._

"So your other two partners aren't going to your house though?"

Quinn stopped herself from flinching. "No. They can't." Not a complete lie. Good. She didn't like lying to Ms. P outright.

"That's too bad. Maybe some other time."

"Mmm," Quinn hummed noncommittally.

"Well I hope you two have fun! It sounds like an inspired project!"

"We're just making up a fake country," Quinn said with a laugh. Honestly, Ms. P thought _everything_ Schuester did was 'inspired'.

"Still!" Ms. Pillsbury went on to gush a little more about Schuester and Quinn tuned her out. She started listening again when Ms. P asked, "Are you sad you won't be doing anymore Cheerios coaching? I know you didn't hate it." Quinn locked eyes with Ms. P and couldn't miss the gentle concern there.

"Fuck no. Waste of my time."

"Language."

"Sorry, Ms. P."

They talked a little more about various topics until suddenly Ms. Pillsbury's already large eyes went wide and she said, "Oh my goodness, I can't believe I didn't think of this before! Why don't you ask Rachel to join Celibacy Club?"

"No," Quinn said fast and firmly.

Ms. P's face fell and she nodded. Quinn felt bad, but not bad enough to change her mind. Celibacy Club was _hers_. Her safe haven, her secret. What if Rachel came and they had to _talk_ about celibacy? Ms. P would feel obligated to share her and Quinn's sandwich, but her OCD ways wouldn't like having to split it three ways so she'd probably stop bringing it altogether. And what if they _didn't_ talk about celibacy like they normally didn't and Rachel went and told someone and suddenly her sanctum was _invaded_ by people? No. Celibacy club was for her and Ms. P.

And Ms. P didn't push because in some ways Quinn thought Ms. P liked it that way, too.

.

On Monday, Rachel was ready.

She'd prepared her project notebook, a secondary last minute adjustments notebook that she could get messy, all the possibly necessary pens and highlighters and tabs they would need, some star stickers to decorate, and a thoroughly nervous Rachel Barbra Berry. Because this was _so_ important. First contact outside of the school grounds. It could make or break entire relationships. Or land people firmly in the 'just school friends' zone.

She hadn't mentioned the invite to San or Britt and a part of her felt awful about that. But she wasn't purposefully lying. Just lying by omission. And it wasn't as if either of them had asked why she was skipping Glee.

Rachel had a suspicion that they might have an idea about it though.

She met up with Quinn outside the school. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Had Quinn been wearing that shirt in Spanish class? In one hand Quinn carried a plastic bag. Rachel could see colored liquid pooling at the bottom. When Quinn noticed Rachel approaching she purposefully moved the bag behind her legs and plastered one of her trademark faux smiles onto her face. Rachel desperately wanted to ask, but the situation was delicate already. Instead when Quinn asked if Rachel was ready to go, she nodded mutely.

Rachel was surprised when Quinn led her to a polished silver Camaro and motioned for Rachel to get in. Quinn owned _this_ car? For some reason she'd been imagining a beat-up van or an old Volvo, or maybe a motorcycle. Something that would better match Quinn's personal style. As if reading her mind, as soon as Rachel slid into her seat and closed the door, Quinn said nonchalantly, "Birthday present." Rachel nodded understanding. This car matched Yearbook Quinn much better than Skank Quinn.

The ride was awkward. Between Rachel's intervals of silence and then spaztic chatter and Quinn's quiet responses and nervous drumming of her fingers on the steering wheel, it could not have been worse. When Quinn finally pulled in front of a large two-story house it was a relief for both of them to get out of the car. Rachel's eyes went large when she finally took in Quinn's home. It was _huge_. As close to a mansion as one would find in Lima, Ohio. "Whoa," Rachel breathed out before she could stop herself. She blushed and stammered, "It's beautiful, Quinn."

"Not like I built it," Quinn replied dryly. She looked unhappily at the building and Rachel couldn't help but notice.

They went inside. Everything was perfect. Spotless. Not a wrinkle or smudge in sight. Rachel felt like she was stepping into a museum. Like no one actually _lived_ there.

Quinn halted in the foyer and crossed her hands over her chest. There was a pause and then Rachel said haltingly, "So, um, your room?" Quinn's head jerked up as if she'd forgotten Rachel was there, then she said woodenly, "Follow me," and started upstairs.

Quinn's room was… pink. Rachel immediately felt uncomfortable. Everything was frills and shiny polished wood. Like… like a _little_ girl's room. Like it hadn't changed since Quinn was six. Quinn looked out of place in her _own room_. Quinn took off her leather jacket and opened her closet and at _last_ there was a glimpse of Quinn, even some cardigans from her early high school years, but as soon as it closed again it was as if they were in a small child's room. It was creepy.

Quinn sat at the edge of her bed. Rachel put on a showman's smile and said in a chipper tone, "We can just hang out for a bit before getting into any schoolwork."

Quinn shrugged and replied, "Sure, whatever you want." Rachel blinked, confused. Why was Quinn acting so subdued?

"… I can't believe it took us so long to meet! What with our mutual acquaintences."

At this Quinn looked up and eyed Rachel with curiosity. "We met before."

"What?"

"You don't remember?" Quinn asked, startled.

"…remember what?"

Quinn fidgeted and tried to say in a blasé voice, "You know, freshman year, first week of school. I tripped you in the middle of the hallway and told everyone to avoid you because they might 'catch the gay'. I can't believe you forgot this."

And that's when it clicked. Why Quinn's coldness was eerily familiar, why Rachel got nervous around her, why B & S had seemed worried when Rachel found out they'd been friends with Quinn. She'd tried so hard to block out the first month of freshman year that she _had_ forgotten one crucial part.

Quinn had started it all.

"_You're_ the reason I was ostracized for the first month of high school?! I was tormented _endlessly_. The only reason it stopped was because you apparently stepped down as Queen Bee and Santana took your place, and I was nice to Brittany without any threats. How- how could you have _done_ that to me? I didn't even know you!"

Quinn shrugged but Rachel could see a blush forming on her cheeks. "I dunno. I needed a target to seal my place as a ruler at McKinley and you… you caught my attention."

Rachel stomped around Quinn's room angrily, but not once did the idea of leaving or forgetting her quest to be Quinn's friend cross her mind. She just needed to work through her hurt. And also-

"Apologize."

"What?"

"I said, apologize. To me. For what you did. You could have ruined school for me, I could be friendless and lonely, Quinn! Actions have consequences. You were a bully and owe me an apology."

Quinn worried her lip and avoided looking at Rachel. She ran her hand through her hair and finally in a cracking voice said, "I'm sorry, Rachel."

It was the first she'd called Rachel solely by her first name.

Rachel had to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. It was pathetic, honestly, that those three words were all it took for Rachel to forgive her immediately. So she wouldn't say anything stupid, she just nodded. A softness fell over Quinn's face. "I didn't expect you to accept so easily," Quinn teased, but there was real affection in her voice.

"I'm a naturally forgiving person," Rachel said with a laugh.

The tension left as quickly as that.

Rachel pulled out the work and they started talking about it and making notes, in between all the easy non-school related chatter. They found out everyday facts about one another: Rachel was a vegan and Quinn could never be because she loved bacon too much, they'd both taken dance classes when they were little, Rachel dreamed of Broadway and Quinn dreamed of just about anything that would get her out of Lima, they both ran in the early mornings to keep in shape. They got stuck debating who would win in a race because Quinn was convinced that running on a treadmill "was fake running" and "hardly counted".

"It's a tried and true form of exercise! They have treadmills in gyms!"

"Gyms are for pansies. What, people can't regulate themselves so they pay someone else to?"

"Quinn!" Rachel said with a huff, but they were both madly grinning at one another.

"I'm gonna go get us some snacks. Endangered caribou and ostrich eggs sound good?" Quinn said as she stood, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"I will take my food cruelty free, thank you," Rachel replied primly.

Quinn shook her head and left her room.

Rachel stayed still for as long as she could. But the temptation to explore proved too great for her and Rachel gave in and stood to roam Quinn's room. Everything was pale pastel or glittered. She was struck again by how _young_ the room looked. Rachel knew a thing or two about sparkles, her room had its fair share and Santana often teased that her room looked like it belonged to a ten-year-old, but Quinn's took the young vibe to a whole _other_ level. There wasn't even a hint of makeup on Quinn's vanity, only ceramic unicorns and a cluster of fake jewelry, even a tiara. Only when Rachel opened the vanity's drawer did she find a mess of makeup and jewelry, as if it was hidden away from sight. It was just off.

Next to the tiara was a picture of a young Quinn with pale blonde hair and a serious face. As Rachel looked around the room she saw more pictures of Quinn through the ages. Always alone or with a man Rachel assumed was her dad. No mom, no friends. It was so sad. Rachel picked up the most recent picture of Quinn that must be close to a year old. Her hair was long and curled at the end, her smile was fixed and her stance was rigid. Even with those things, Quinn was the most beautiful girl Rachel had ever seen.

Rachel heard a footfall behind her and turned to see Quinn with a tray of ranch dressing and assorted vegetables. Quinn looked at her quizzically when she saw what Rachel held. "I-uh-" Rachel fumbled as she set down the picture. "You're a very pretty girl, Quinn."

The reaction was instant. Quinn's smile dropped, her eyes went cold, her face clouded. "Get out."

"What? What did I-"

"OUT!" Quinn yelled so furiously that Rachel practically ran past her in her haste to follow her command. She left her backpack in her rush to get away from Quinn.

Rachel had no idea what she had done, but it must have been terrible to illicit that reaction from Quinn.

She didn't know that Quinn put the platter down on her desk, went to her bed and curled around her pillow and started to sob.

...

She should have known.

She should have _known_ that's what Rachel wanted.

It's what _everyone_ wanted.

She was so stupid to have let her in this far. Hadn't she _seen_ the way that Rachel often looked at her? She'd even commented on it a few times just to see the diva squirm. But she hadn't- Quinn hadn't expected Rachel to try something so _quickly_. She was cursed. Dye her hair pink, wear ratty clothes, and she was still cursed. Nothing could change who she was.

_Dirty whore slut bitch cunt waste_

Quinn's nails dug into her palms and she cried until there was nothing left in her. She didn't even go down to make dinner.

So that's where her dad found her, curled around her pillow in the fetal position, eyes hidden by a mop of tousled pink hair. She didn't move when she heard him enter, didn't make a sound when he sat down on the edge of her bed and stroked her hair out of her face.

"Quinnie? What's the matter princess?"

Quinn ignored him. Hoping that somehow _this_ would be the day that her dad left her room without anything else. But just like every other day he stayed. And it must have been something _about_ Quinn that always made him stay.

""Was it another mean boy, Quinnie? You know how boys are."

_Please go away._

"You gotta be careful out there. I worry about you going to that school dressed like a whore, but had hoped that you were right and all the boys would avoid you, suspicious of disease and damnation. But we might have to rethink your wardrobe choices if you come home upset when a boy tries to sleep with you."

_No. Freedom to dress this way is one of the few things I have._ "It was the Berry girl. She made a pass at me."

She could see the hatred bloom on his face. "Little bitch dyke, perverts that whole damn family. Scared my little girl something awful, and no wonder too. My Quinnie wants to be righteous. We'll call it an early night, then. Go get dressed for bed, Quinn."

Robotically Quinn went to her dresser for her pajamas. She pulled them out and started to change. Russell Fabray didn't leave as she undressed.

He never left.

Quinn sat on the side of her bed, head hung low and eyes staring sightlessly forward. Sometimes, if she was just the right amount of tired, she could go so far into her head that she wouldn't remember a thing. But mostly she remembered. And when Russell Fabray buried his face against her neck and grabbed her breast and it felt like she could count every stubble on his chin and like his hand was on fire, she knew that tonight she would remember.

He pushed her onto her back and his hands were brands touching her all over as he togged off her pajama top again and started to suck hungrily at her collar bone, making his way down. It was the worst when he dragged it out. Finally his lips found her nipple and her whole body responded, even though Quinn's brain screamed at it not to. She was a dirty little girl, just like he always said she was.

His hand slid down into her bottoms and Quinn bit down hard on her cheek. She was as dry as bone but he didn't even notice as he shoved two fingers into her and started to roughly move them in and out. As if on accident his thumb grazed her clit and she bucked against it instinctively, causing Russell to smirk hatefully from ear to ear.

"Dad, please," Quinn whispered close to tears, and she was begging him to stop as well as begging him to finish and she hated, hated, _hated_ herself with everything that she had.

When she was so close to climax she could feel it popping like fireworks behind her eyes, Russell quickly withdrew his fingers. Quinn let out a whimper and closed her eyes, and Russell bent low to her ear and said, "Finish it if you have to." And Quinn knotted her fingers into the fabric of her bed for the briefest of seconds because she wanted to prove him _wrong_, but he was right and she put her own hand between her legs and finished, feeling the amazing and awful rush of climax shake her body to its core. Quinn buried her face in her pillow with shame and heard the disgust and _pride_ in his voice as he left and said, "Sluts can't help themselves. At least you'll always be daddy's pretty girl."


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: History of sexual abuse talked about.**

...

When she was seven her mom left.

Only it wasn't so much 'left' as 'was thrown out'. Judy Fabray was forced out after she caught Russell staring at Quinn one too many times and tried to leave with her. She got about a mile away before a cop car stopped her because she was swerving. Judy was drunk when she tried to leave her husband with her daughter. Russell charged her with custodial interference and courts didn't have much trouble taking the side of a upstanding white male citizen over a drunkard.

This admittedly hadn't sat well with Quinn's older sister Frannie, who had been waiting for a ride home from school during the great escape attempt. All of sixteen, she'd been understandably upset that her mother had tried to take off with her baby sister and hadn't really cared where Frannie was. The age gap between the sisters had made them distant but friendly with one another, Quinn being the one truly invested in the relationship for the chance at an older sisters approval. Judy had unintentionally shredded that relationship to pieces.

And when an extremely confused Quinn had approached her older sister with questions about the way her father was starting to treat her, Frannie had yelled at her that she had always been the favorite with both her parents and she was a dirty, selfish liar.

Needless to say, when Frannie left for college when Quinn was nine, they hadn't really kept in contact.

With Judy out of the way, Quinn was Russell's do to with as he pleased. It started small, as grooming can, with lingering kisses and insisting on helping her change for bed. Russell instilled in Quinn a healthy dose of God-fearing and an even bigger helping of self-hatred. "It's your fault that I do these things, Quinnie, you and your feminine wiles. I know, baby, I know you don't mean to, but that's the lot for women." Her dad was a grown man and knew this stuff and Quinn had to _learn_. Pleas of "Daddy no, please stop, it hurts," were answered with, "It's okay, I can't stop, you're mine baby." It didn't take a while lot of training for Quinn to go mostly silent.

As she got older it got rougher and there was more Russell made her do, but according to Russell they never had sex because it would be an abomination. So no vaginal or anal penetration with a penis. That didn't mean he couldn't penetrate her with anything else. Things that probably hurt a whole lot more than his tiny little dick ever could.

Russell didn't let Quinn have friends, not even before her mother left. According to him all the people in Lima were sinners, even the ones he made nice with each week at church. When Quinn hit middle school she decided to be rebellious. She made friends for the first time.

Their names were Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce. Santana shared Quinn's learned low opinion of everyone else and Brittany made Quinn start to believe that maybe people weren't black and white. It was hard for Quinn to reconcile her dad's beliefs with ideas from books that she devoured, and Brittany started to make it even harder. At first, Quinn thought Brittany was stupid or something and only made nice with her so that she could hang out with the cool Santana, but Quinn soon realized that she had a child-like sort of wisdom to her. She was all hope and innocence, something that neither Santana or Quinn had an abundance of. And Quinn started to love her for it. Love _both_ of them. They welcomed her in and it felt better than anything she'd ever experienced.

Quinn started to hang out with them every second she could and they bonded fast and irrevocably (or so it felt at the time). Russell let Quinn have them because a kid at twelve with no friends looked more than a bit odd and he wanted to avoid more counselor calls. And he liked that Brittany girl even if the dirty Mexican followed her everywhere like a furious tidal wave.

One day toward the end of seventh grade, Quinn finally invited them for a sleepover at her house after the hundredth sleepover at one of theirs and the inevitable question, "When can we see _your_ house?" Her dad wouldn't _do_ anything with them around, surely. And he didn't. He let them girl out in Quinn's room ("This is your _room_, Q? It looks like a unicorn shit it out." "Unicorns are _awesome_, S!" "Yeah, I guess…") and left them alone except to order pizza and tell them lights out. Quinn had to bashfully tell the girls that there were no locks on the bathroom doors (there weren't locks from the inside on _any_ doors in Quinn's house, only locks on the outside and Quinn's dad had the key). Santana had given her a long stare and then took Brittany's hand to go to the bathroom. Quinn blushed crimson when she heard Santana whisper to Brittany in the hallway, "If you need to go in the middle of the night wake me up, B, don't go alone. These crackas be crazy."

But in the middle of the night it wasn't Santana that Brittany woke, it was Quinn. Brittany shook Quinn awake and with wide, apologetic eyes she whispered loudly, "San's a sound sleeper sometimes and this is one of them. I feel bad breaking her first promise but her _second_ was don't go alone and I'll feel better if I can keep a part. Please come with me?"

So Quinn went with Brittany to the restroom.

Her dad was in the hallway.

His eyes sparkled maliciously at the sight of them. Brittany smiled politely but seemed nervous even though she couldn't figure out why. Quinn was silent.

"Hello girls! Off to the bathroom? I just went, what a coincidence."

"Yessir, Mr. Fabray," Brittany said with a nod.

"Well, I'll see you two in the morning. Goodnight, Quinnie. It's wonderful to have you here, Brittany." Russell Fabray vanished down the hall.

Brittany watched him go, a considering look on her face, then she turned to Quinn and said, "He was kind of like a ghost sneaking up in the night! Spooky." And with that she went into the bathroom.

Quinn stood by the door.

And when they went back to Quinn's bedroom, Quinn stayed awake. Standing guard over Brittany.

Quinn never invited them over for a sleepover again. And Santana never questioned it.

With high school on the horizon, Quinn became obsessed with the award-winning Cheerios team. Not only were they athletic, not only did they have skills that Quinn envied and wanted to learn, they spent a ridiculous amount of time away for competitions. Most of the time out of the county, sometimes out of the goddamn state. That seemed like _heaven_. Quinn easily convinced Santana and Brittany it was where they belonged. They practiced all summer before ninth grade, Brittany taking to it easiest and teaching both Santana and Quinn handsprings and backflips. They were some of the most prepared girls to ever try out. They got in easily.

Sue fell in love with Quinn, her new pet project, and named her Head Cheerio.

That Friday, Quinn proudly wore her cheerleading uniform home.

Her dad had nearly ripped the zipper off.

And afterward, he said, "I bet Brittany looks great in this. I can't wait to chaperone."

Quinn had felt everything in her shatter.

He'd been mentioning Brittany more and more since the start of summer, when he'd picked Quinn up from practicing with the girls one day and seen them in workout gear. And Quinn knew, she knew that it was too risky.

If she got Brittany hurt, she'd kill herself. If Santana didn't get to her first, which she'd have every right to.

Quinn did the only thing she could think to do. She exorcised her best friends from her life.

Who had she been kidding, thinking she could have friends.

...

Rachel quickly figured out the reason that Quinn had kicked her out. Quinn had thought that Rachel was hitting on her (which was Rachel's fault, _why_ had she called her a pretty girl?), and because Quinn had a reputation at the school as being 'loose', Quinn had assumed that Rachel bought in to the gossip and had been insulted. It made perfect sense for her to be upset. And Rachel felt horrible for it, even if she thought that Quinn's reaction had been a bit over-the-top.

She had to figure out a way to make it up to her. She also had to figure out how to retrieve her backpack without the interaction being completely awkward.

Rachel needed to discuss this with someone, but Santana and Brittany were clearly out of the question. So she had to resort to other friends.

She pulled out her phone and typed up a quick text.

_S.O.S, need girl's night with you and Cedes. Tonight okay? ~Rachel Barbra Berry  
><em>

The reply was nearly instantaneous.

_Always available for you. Come over, we're both already here._

Rachel let out a sigh of relief. Kurt and Mercedes would help. They were extremely dependable, if a little dramatic. It wasn't as if any of Rachel's friends _weren't_ the dramatic type, after all. They were in glee club. Well, maybe Matt and Mike were exceptions, but they couldn't be depended on for this kind of situation.

Rachel walked to her house first, getting her car to drive to Kurt's. She had planned to walk home after Quinn's anyway, so she wasn't too put out. It was a reasonable distance, and Rachel liked a good walk. But walking from Quinn's to Kurt's was absolutely out of the question. She'd look horrendous after such a trek.

Rachel pulled in front of Kurt's and ran up to the front door, knocking rapidly without stopping until Kurt opened the door and her knuckles nearly collided with his face. Kurt was clearly startled by the look on Rachel's face, and he ushered her in with a worried 'tell us all about it, sweetie'. Finn, Kurt's stepbrother, was grabbing a sandwich in the kitchen and watched with confusion as Kurt herded Rachel into his room and slammed the door.

Mercedes was on the bed, flipping through a glamor magazine, but upon seeing Rachel's face she threw the magazine on the floor and held out her arms. Rachel let out a little huff and accepted the hug gratefully. "What's wrong, Rach? I haven't seen you this worked up in ages."

Mercedes, Rachel, and Kurt crowded at the head of the bed with Rachel nestled between them comfortably. Santana and Brittany were her best friends, but sometimes Kurt and Mercedes were exactly who Rachel needed.

"I really blew it today. I was trying to make sure that Quinn and I became friends and it exploded in my face," Rachel said, using her hands to simulate an explosion for emphasis. Mercedes and Kurt exchanged looks.

"Um, _who_, sweetie?" Kurt asked doubtfully.

"Quinn, Quinn Fabray. She's in our grade," Rachel replied glumly, and at that Kurt hopped up from his bed and started looking through his bookshelf. He pulled out last year's yearbook and returned to his spot.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Mercedes said slowly, wondering whom on earth her friend could be trying to befriend. There weren't a whole lot of people Mercedes and Kurt didn't collectively know. They were fairly well known to be the gossip hubs of the school.

Kurt found the page where last year's sophomores started and flipped to the Fs, putting his finger on the page and dragging it down until he found Fabray. He looked at the picture and blinked, startled. He had no idea who this girl was. And how was that possible? She was beautiful, with golden locks and a symmetrical, pretty face. She was a shoe-in for popular, but he didn't know her at all… And clearly, she'd been around for over a year, so he couldn't claim transfer student. This was certainly a blow to his reputation.

Rachel looked down at the picture and her face fell. Because that wasn't at all the Quinn she knew, the Quinn she'd so nearly befriended. "She doesn't look like that anymore," Rachel said quietly, pushing the yearbook away. "She dresses more… punk. She dyed her hair, too. Pink."

Kurt and Mercedes both made the same noise of annoyance at once. "Rachel!" Kurt said, shaking his head. "Lead with the hair! There's literally only one girl in the whole school with all-pink hair! Not that I know her well or anything, but I've seen her around. She's a Skank, right?" As he absorbed the question he'd just asked, Kurt and Mercedes looked at each other again, eyes wide. What was Rachel Berry doing trying to befriend a _Skank_?

"She is, but she's not really like them at all," Rachel said, her tone still coated in misery. "Well, she has an attitude. And she doesn't go to class. But she gets straight As, and she doesn't go around mugging kids, I don't think. She just… hangs out with them, is all."

"Well, that is a qualifier," Kurt said with a chuckle. Rachel shot him a glare.

"Hey, yeah I remember her better now!" Mercedes said, pulling the yearbook across Rachel's lap to peer at the picture. "I didn't really get a good look at her that day, but remember Kurt? I told you about the Skank who broke Phil Ritter's nose?"

"That's her?" Kurt exclaimed, leaning in for the dish. Rachel's brow furrowed. No, that didn't sound _at all_ like Quinn. Did it?

"Yeah, so check this Rach, like one month into the school year my grades stopped loading into the server, something about my student ID number or some bull. And my teachers tried to fix it but it was like, an administrative thing or whatever and no one high enough was doing anything to fix it, so I went to Figgins all ready to chew him out because I needed my grades in the damn system, you know? Anyway, I'm waiting for him to get done with his meeting, and he's yelling at this pink-haired chick, Quinn," Mercedes looked down at the picture as if to confirm, but her nose wrinkled in indecision. "Anyway, suddenly the office door like, SLAMS open, and fucking Ms. PILLSBURY comes storming in looking like she's about to murder someone."

Rachel couldn't believe her ears. "Ms. Pillsbury? Emma Pillsbury, the counselor? The one who has a crush on our Mr. Schuester?"

"That's the one! I didn't even know she could raise her voice, never mind look as mad as she did that day. She goes into Figgins' office and starts _screaming_ at him. Something about school policy and conduct and apparently Ritter was doing something _super_ shitty and that's why Quinn clocked him and broke his nose, and Ms. Pillsbury started talking about people _suing_ and all, and Figgins wilted like a dead flower. Think she was gonna get suspended or even expelled, but she ended up with, like, detention or something."

Rachel's eyes had gone wide as saucers. She had more questions now than ever. Was Quinn violent? But it sounded like Phil Ritter had been doing something awful, and Quinn had either stopped him or made sure he'd never do it again. And that wasn't bad, was it? Rachel supposed it depended on what Phil had been doing.

There was a knock on the door and after a moment the door opened and an anxious-looking Finn peered around the corner. "Hey," he said nervously, flinching under the glare Kurt sent his way. "I know closed door is supposed to be a clue for 'do not disturb', but Rachel looked upset. Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, Finn, thank you for your concern," Rachel said with a small smile. Finn let out a sigh, grinning with relief.

"Okay, good. I know we don't date anymore but Puck says I still have to make sure you're always alright or else he'll beat me up." Rachel laughed a little at this, and Finn brightened more, then he rubbed a hand through his hair and added quickly, "And of course, I care, too. I just also don't want to get beat up. Want a tea or something?"

"No, thank you for the offer though," Rachel said. When Mercedes cleared her throat and Kurt jerked his head, Finn took the cue and left.

"He's gotten a lot better since you dumped him," Kurt mused, giving Rachel a wily grin. "More considerate. I think you were a wake-up call."

"Well he can't go around calling people sad hookers when he's dating them and expect his girlfriend to stick around," Rachel said with a toss of her brown hair. "He's just a kid, and he can grow out of it. Hopefully."

Kurt and Mercedes both laughed.

.

Rachel decided that her best bet to find out the circumstances of the Great Nose Breaking Fiasco would be to ask Ms. Pillsbury herself. Ms. Pillsbury was a good counselor, really, and generally speaking she could keep secrets, but Rachel knew she was a bit more loose-lipped when it came to Mr. Schue and his Glee charges. If she asked on his behalf, perhaps she'd be more likely to get an answer.

Rachel felt naked as she entered school, sporting an old middle school backpack with empty notebooks and anything she'd happened to leave at home the day before, because her backpack was still in Quinn Fabray's custody. She wasn't going to ruin things further by showing up at the Fabray residence uninvited to get it. She'd ask if she could swing by after school when she saw Quinn in Spanish. If Quinn said no… well, she'd ask politely if Quinn would bring it to school with her on Wednesday. Two nights without her backpack would be awful, but she'd bear it to avoid stepping on Quinn's toes. Courting Quinn was a delicate matter, and Rachel could manage a few days without some textbooks. She could borrow from friends, as she had the previous night with Kurt.

Rachel was early so she could swing by Ms. Pillsbury's before her first period class. Wanting to know didn't technically have anything to do with befriending Quinn, but knowing would help Rachel figure out if she wanted to keep going, or at the very least how to proceed. She still couldn't get her mind around the idea of Quinn being _violent_. It just didn't mesh with what she knew of Quinn. Now _defensive_, that was a given. If Quinn had been defending herself- Rachel's stomach squirmed, remembering Miles Brody and his aggressive pursuit of Quinn. If anyone had laid a hand on Quinn, Rachel would destroy them.

Ms. Pillsbury was already in her office, typing something on her computer. She immediately stopped when Rachel entered and closed the door behind her. The teacher visibly brightened, sitting up straighter and saying enthusiastically, "Rachel! What a pleasant surprise!" She stopped herself from saying anything further, and Rachel gave her a questioning look. Ms. Pillsbury seemed itching to say something.

"Good morning, Ms. Pillsbury! I actually have a question for you, in regards to a student named Quinn F-"

"How did yesterday go? Did you two have a good time?" Ms. Pillsbury interrupted as soon as Rachel started the name, vibrating with excitement. Rachel opened her mouth in surprise. How had the counselor known about that? Rachel hadn't told anyone except her fathers beforehand. And Quinn wasn't likely to have said anything about it- Unless…

"Did Quinn tell you?"

Ms. Pillsbury blushed as bright as her hair, nodding as she put her hands to her cheeks. "Oh gosh, I shouldn't have said anything. Quinn will be mortified that I told you I knew. I just wanted to know so badly, I can't be expected to wait to hear about it until club when you of all people show up in my office."

"Club?" Rachel questioned, slowly starting to understand how Ms. Pillsbury might possibly know Quinn.

"Celibacy club, it's every day after school. Quinn's the only member, so we do end up talking a bit," Ms. Pillsbury explained. "I was excited to hear that you two were starting to hang out. How was yesterday?"

Rachel smiled, still thrown by Ms. Pillsbury's interest in Quinn's social life, but quietly happy that at least _someone_ else seemed to care what was going on in Quinn's day to day. It was strange that it was a counselor, but Quinn seemed so lonely, and Rachel would take what she could get.

"It was a bit rocky, but I'm sure everything will work out," Rachel replied vaguely. Ms. Pillsbury looked startled and seemed to want to question Rachel further, but Rachel pressed on. "Actually, I wanted to ask you a question. About Quinn. If that's alright."

Ms. Pillsbury's smile faded, and she put her folded hands on the desk in front of her. "It depends on the question, Rachel. I'm a counselor, you know that includes a promise of privacy."

"I just- wanted to know about an incident at the beginning of the year… Quinn broke a boy's nose?"

Instantly Ms. Pillsbury bristled, sitting up straighter and saying forcefully, "That is no reason to not be Quinn's friend, Rachel, if that's what the trouble was last night. Quinn is an outstanding person. If you could just give her a chance, you'd see-"

"Oh no, please, you misunderstand me," Rachel hurried to say, putting up her hands in defense. "I think Quinn is brilliant, she's funny and smart- I just… I just wanted to know- I figured it was something that wasn't her fault, but I wanted to be sure so that I wouldn't go into this unaware."

Ms. Pillsbury relaxed a little, but she was silent as she surveyed Rachel, lips pressed thin in thought. After a moment, she said carefully, "I can't discuss the particulars of that case, Rachel. Not even with you. What I will say is this. Quinn Fabray is a courageous lion of a girl who defends people when she can. And I am proud of her."

Rachel smiled, relieved. Quinn had been defending someone.

Defending someone against something that even peaceable Ms. Pillsbury didn't mind using _violence_ against… Now that was worrying.

If it had been something so awful, like a kid getting beat up, Quinn stepping in on their behalf was incredible. It made Rachel even more convinced that Quinn was worth the effort she was putting in.

"Thank you very much, Ms. Pillsbury," Rachel said sincerely. The counselor gave her a nod, and Rachel left the office.

.

Rachel was putting out one of her emergency blank notebooks for Spanish when her backpack slammed down on her desk and she nearly jumped out of her shoes. She looked up to see Quinn glaring coldly down at her, muttering a curt, "This is yours," before starting to walk away.

"Wait, Quinn!" Rachel yelped, reaching out without thinking to grab Quinn's sleeve. Quinn yanked her arm out of the way before she could, and her face contorted in anger. Rachel quickly shoved her hand back into her lap. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. And I'm sorry about last night."

Quinn looked around the classroom to see if anyone was listening. They were almost alone in the room, but there was a boy towards the front, so Quinn stepped closer to Rachel so she could hiss, "Listen to me, Berry. Nothing happened, and this entire relationship you've been desperately trying to forge didn't even happen as far as I'm concerned, so you need to _back off_. After this stupid project, don't talk to me again."

"Quinn," Rachel said softly, biting her lip nervously. "If that's what you really want… then I won't bother you again. But please, hear me out."

Quinn crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"I understand what happened, I think. You thought I was coming on to you-" Rachel was interrupted by Quinn's angry scoff, but Rachel kept going, "And that doesn't really surprise me, given what I said. But I wasn't. I just felt guilty about snooping around your room and tried to come up with something to say to seem less- less strange, and it achieved the exact opposite of what I wanted it to. And I'm sorry. I don't believe that you're some easy Skank who would give it up to anybody, I don't even believe most of the boys at school who say they've slept with you _have_. I mean, I know a thing or two about rumors, not to mention that you, well, hate everyone." Rachel flinched, not at all sure that was the right thing to say until the corner of Quinn's lips tugged up briefly in a smirk. "I wasn't trying to _use_ you, Quinn. I wanted to be your friend, because I can see how cool you are and how much you meant to Santana and Brittany. I hoped we could all be friends. What I said was true. You're the prettiest girl I've ever met.. but you're a lot more than that."

Rachel took a deep breath, already flinching away from Quinn's rejection. But it didn't come. Quinn just stared at her blankly. Rachel couldn't tell at all what Quinn was thinking, and it was making her nervous. Quinn turned away with a shrug, and Rachel's heart sank. Then over her shoulder, Quinn said, "Fine. Apology accepted. But you're wrong, I don't hate _everyone_." And without looking back at Rachel, Quinn went to her seat.

Rachel could have burst with happiness.

**Reviews are lovely. :) Thank you to all who have sent them.  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5

Quinn made her way to the bleachers after Spanish class, not really sure what she was doing with Rachel and feeling like a moron for accepting her apology. So, what, Berry made up something about not trying to sleep with her and she believed it like that? But what if Rachel really had meant it. What if Rachel was just an awkward dork who hadn't known what to say after Quinn found her pawing at an old picture of her? And Rachel had come up with- what- Quinn being _pretty_?

Then again, Quinn was probably one of the only people in the world who could take that as an insult.

She flopped down on her couch under the bleachers, still debating her decision to give Rachel the benefit of the doubt. It took her a few minutes to even pull out her book of the week, she was thinking about it so hard.

"You look like shit."

When Quinn looked up at Mack, her glare could have leveled a mountain. Mack just grinned and plopped down next to her on the couch. Quinn shifted away from Mack. This was new. The Skanks didn't really engage her in conversation, and the certainly didn't initiate it. Mack was going off script.

"Excuse me?"

"Nah, let me rephrase. You look like normal. But the past week or so you've been looking, like, happy."

Quinn shook her head. "I don't know what you mean."

Mack leaned back, throwing her arm over the back of the couch. "Come on, Quinn. I've known you for a year now. Since sophomore year, right? I could count on my hand the number of times I've seen you smile. But this past week? You've been practically chipper."

"No I haven't."

"Sure you have. I mean, obviously not by normal people standards." Mack looked down, and her normal cocky façade faded slightly. "We've all got shit, Quinn, and you carry yours around like your blood is lead. I don't know what's up, and I never asked, because it's none of my business. But whatever was going on for a little while these last few days, it made your weight less."

Quinn swallowed thickly around the lump in her throat. She hadn't known the Skanks saw so much. Suddenly, she was grateful for them. They just let her be, made her life a little more bearable at school. She hadn't known how much she appreciated them. But she didn't want to admit to anything. "Past few weeks have been normal."

"Uh huh. And Sheila seeing you get into your car with Rachel Berry yesterday?" Mack's eyes widened in triumph, her smirk growing as she dropped her bombshell.

"Fuck off!" Quinn grumbled, shoving Mack in the shoulder.

"Come on, for serious, Q. I was happy you were doing okay for once… and I hope you get that again," Mack was more serious again, putting a hand on Quinn's shoulder. Quinn didn't flinch away.

"Remember when we met," Mack said suddenly, leaning in a little. Quinn's eyes narrowed and Mack backed up again. "You were under here, this little blonde chick in a babydoll dress, and the three of us found this place and decided it was ours. We tried to kick you out- and you gave us this look that was so goddamn scary we backed off. We thought we were letting you stay- but it was _you_ letting _us_ stay, wasn't it?"

A smile gradually inched its way across Quinn's face and she quirked an eyebrow playfully. "Maybe."

Mack laughed. She waggled her eyebrows. "And then that cold day I loaned you my leather jacket and you jizzed your pants so hard your hair turned pink."

Quinn punched her harder than was necessary, but she smiled a little. In response Mack laughed and pushed Quinn's head away with the palm of her hand.

Mack put on a serious face again, giving Quinn a broken smile. "So whatever you've been up to lately, keep doing it. It's nice to actually see you back from the dead."

Quinn smiled at her book.

Pseudo friends were nice, as it turned out.

.

When Quinn arrived at celibacy club, Ms. P was already there and clearly nervous about something, because she was polishing all the windows in the classroom.

"Uh, Ms. P?" Quinn ventured warily, putting her backpack down. Ms. Pillsbury nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Oh, Quinn! I'm so sorry, I was- distracted," Ms. P fluttered back to their table, sitting down in her normal seat and smoothing her skirt over and over again. Quinn sat down slowly, wanting to reach out and stop the counselor from rubbing her hands raw, but she didn't, instead looking down at the table with her hands fisted in her lap. What was going on? Had Quinn done something? Was Ms. P angry at her? She wasn't about to ask, she didn't want her suspicions to be confirmed. God, if Ms. P cancelled _club_-

"I owe you an apology, Quinn," Ms. Pillsbury said softly, causing Quinn to look back up in surprise. Ms. P's face was red with guilt.

"What for?" Quinn asked.

"This morning before classes, Rachel Berry came into my office." Quinn's eyes widened and she had to stop herself from standing and running out of the classroom. There was no reason to, Quinn hadn't done anything to or _with_ Rachel, and what did this have to do with her? But she still felt paranoid, that somehow Ms. P knew something was wrong, and somehow Rachel was the catalyst.

Ms. Pillsbury continued, "I'm afraid I got too excited and asked her how yesterday went." Quinn squirmed in her seat, biting the inside of her cheeks. So Rachel had told Ms. Pillsbury she exploded? "And I apologize deeply for letting Rachel know that you'd told me about your plans. I wanted to know what happened, and I betrayed a trust."

Quinn couldn't believe it. That was what Ms. P felt bad about. Quinn grinned, leaning back in her seat and putting her feet up on the chair across from here. "It's not a big deal, Ms. P. I mean, now all she knows is I'm friends with a teacher. That can't do much for my rep the way it is, can it?"

Ms. Pillsbury's face lit up with relief and she giggled. "No, I suppose that can't make your reputation worse in a place like high school."

Both of them started cracking up and it was a few minutes before they calmed down again. "So what did Berry want to talk to you about," Quinn said as soon as she could take a breath.

"Quinn!" Ms. P exclaimed, shaking her head in disapproval but unable to keep the amused smile off her face. "You know better than to ask me what someone has come to discuss with me in office hours!"

"Sorry, sorry! I just figured it couldn't have been that serious if you segued into our project work yesterday."

Ms. Pillsbury brought both her hands to her face and groaned. "I'm afraid I opened with that, I barely let her say anything beforehand. What a terrible counselor I am."

"You're a great counselor, Ms. P," Quinn said firmly. Ms. Pillsbury peeked out from between her fingers to see the fierce look on Quinn's face, and she smiled behind her hands. There was no way Quinn would let Ms. Pillsbury think she was anything but magnificent. Quinn had never met a nicer, more sincere person in her entire life. All she wanted to do was help people. And, okay, maybe she wasn't a perfect counselor. But she did everything in her power to care for the kids at McKinley High. Quinn would never let Ms. P think that meant any less than it did.

"Thank you, Quinn," Ms. Pillsbury said softly, gratitude making her face glow. "And I suppose I can tell you, because it wasn't about her. She was asking about you, actually."

"About me?" Quinn repeated. Unease settled in her gut. _What could that mean?_ "I don't know what you coulda told her, I'm not that interesting."

"I thoroughly reject that statement, Quinn, you are one of the most interesting people I know. And she was asking specifically about the time you broke Phillip Ritter's nose."

Quinn's feet slammed into the ground as they fell off the opposite chair in her haste to sit upright. "What? How did she know about that?"

Ms. Pillsbury shrugged. "Well I knew you hadn't told her, so I figured she heard it through the gossip grape vine. I'm sure it wasn't exactly kept on the 'down low' when it happened. Of course, I didn't tell her why it happened, it's an incident involving three students. Even if you had given me permission, I couldn't do that to the other two involved."

Quinn couldn't wrap her head around what Ms. P was telling her. "And you talked to her about this before school?"

"She showed up at 7:45 on the dot," Ms. Pillsbury confirmed, tilting her head. "Why?"

"Because if she knew about me breaking a kid's nose before our Spanish class, then-" Quinn trailed off, glaring at the table. That didn't make any sense. If Rachel knew she was violent without knowing why she'd punched Ritter, then why had she still wanted to be Quinn's friend? Rachel had no idea if Quinn's reaction had been justified. It had been, Ritter was a grade-A douchebag, but Rachel had no way of knowing he'd been attacking Mack in a hallway. Rachel was still pursuing friendship with a potential socio?

What was up with that girl…

"Quinn? What were you about to say?"

"Just that she's weird."

Ms. Pillsbury chuckled. "She certainly marches to the beat of her own drum, that's for sure. She's lucky enough that the people around her have started to march with her."

"She wouldn't have been so lucky if I'd ended up the popular one," Quinn said dryly.

"Oh? Do you think so?" Ms. P questioned, interested. Quinn could see her putting her counselor hat on, but Quinn didn't mind. It wasn't as if Ms. P would judge her about her one-week reign of terror and they'd discussed it briefly before.

"I kinda zeroed in on Rachel first week of freshman year, made her a target. Turns out she nearly ended up the loser of the school, until I bailed on the Queen Bee position. If I'd ended up Coach Sylvester's protégé, I'd have kept attacking her." Quinn tried to keep her voice neutral, but she was starting to actually feel guilty about the way she'd treated Rachel at the beginning of school, ever since the little troll had started following her around.

"Well, can I be the first to say that I'm very glad you are not Sue Sylvester's protégé, because I wouldn't even know what I'd be missing without you as a friend. And I suppose we'll never know what would have happened on that path. Either way I think that Rachel would have been unable to be anyone but herself, and she would have found a following no matter what."

Quinn laughed at this. "You know, Ms. P, you're probably right."

.

Rachel flew into glee club still basking in the success of her talk with Quinn. Most of the club was already there, and when Kurt and Mercedes saw her they both started waving their arms to get her to come over to them. Rachel walked over to them and was immediately hit with questions about what she'd found out about the nose-breaking Skank. Rachel felt bad that she didn't actually have much more information than they had. Her happiness wasn't about finding out about the mystery, it was about Quinn's forgiveness, but Kurt and Mercedes had no way of knowing this and had jumped to conclusions. Of course, they had decided what was making _her_ happy was what would make _them_ happy.

"So dish, girl, what happened," Kurt said, rising in his seat in his eagerness for a sweet piece of gossip.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I don't have much to offer. Quinn was defending someone, apparently, but that's the only new information I gathered," Rachel replied with a helpless shrug.

Kurt and Mercedes both deflated. "Then what are you so dang chipper about?" Mercedes asked, looking her teammate up and down. It was clear to anyone who knew Rachel that she was coasting on some major happy waves.

"Quinn has forgiven me for my faux pas and I'm still allowed to pursue the friendship!" Rachel gushed, clasping her hands in front of her chest and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Allowed?" Kurt repeated. "What does that mean? This is sounding really weird Rachel."

"Yeah, like if she don't want to be your friend why are you trying so hard with her?" Mercedes wondered and Kurt nodded by her side.

"Because Rachel can't let things _go_," a voice from behind them growled.

All three glee club members looked toward the door, where Santana and Brittany were just entering. Rachel swallowed nervously, taking a step toward her friends. Santana raised a hand to stop her, clearly furious.

"No, Rach, this has gone too far. I don't know what you're getting out of this little show you've been putting on, but enough is enough. Quinn will never want to be your friend, or anyone's friend, and you trying so hard is just feeding into her ego. She isn't even _nice_ to you, why are you torturing yourself? To prove that you can do it?"

"San," Brittany began, but Santana just shook her head, looking down at the floor with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Not now, Britt. This has to be said."

"Santana, I think you're wrong," Rachel replied. "Quinn is really lonely, can't you see that? She just needs to be shown that people will put in the effort to be her friend, that they won't give up on her!"

"Like fuck!" Santana snarled, and everyone in glee turned their heads in alarm at the sheer anger in her voice. Rachel took a step back. She knew Santana, she had seen her mad, had seen her go on the attack, but she'd never seen her like this.

Brittany put a hand on Santana's shoulder, and the latina looked at her girlfriend for a moment before taking a shaky breath to calm herself. When she looked back at Rachel her eyes glittered with angry tears.

Rachel couldn't recall if she'd ever seen Santana truly cry before.

"Quinn Fabray doesn't give a fuck about anybody, and she doesn't want friends. What, do you think I just passively sat around when she decided to cut us out? Does that even remotely sound like me? I spent _months_ chasing that girl around, and for what? Hundreds of ignored calls, ignored texts, hours spent trying to get her to answer the goddamn door of her creepy haunted mansion. There were fucking lights on and everything and she just ignored the doorbell like I was some Jehovah's Witness! I staked out her locker and she stopped using the damn thing. I just wanted to _talk_ to her! Figure out what was going on in that messed up head of hers. All I got was glimpses of blonde hair as she hightailed it around corners away from me, and the porch light shut off when I mounted the stairs…"

Santana wiped her arm angrily across her eyes, glaring at anyone who dared show her a hint of sympathy. Brittany's face was long with sorrow, and she wrapped her arm around her girlfriend's shoulders. Santana leaned into Brittany's embrace. She leveled a glare at Rachel again, her face hard. "So tell me again, Rachel, how lonely she is. Tell me how much she needs friends. Because we sure as hell aren't good enough for her."

There was a drawn out silence in the entire club as they tried to process the reality of seeing Santana's vulnerable side, and it was finally cut when Brittany said softly, "I miss Quinn, I really do. But she was really mean and never replied to any of my letters. I even decorated them and everything. I don't know what we did wrong."

"We didn't do anything wrong," Santana said, giving Brittany a peck on the cheeks. "We did everything right and she still shat on us. So forgive me, Rachel, for not being entirely thrilled that you've decided to take up this one-man wild goose chase. You're gonna get hurt, _mi hermana_, and I don't want that for you. Please, Rach, just _let it go_."

Rachel walked resolutely up to Santana and wrapped her in a big hug. Santana accepted the embrace, putting her arms around her little friend and giving her a squeeze. If anyone else from the club had tried it she'd have kicked them so hard they'd have seen stars, but from Rachel it was alright. Rachel was her sister, after all.

But Santana knew that Rachel wasn't going to let it go. If she knew anything about Rachel, she knew the little firecracker couldn't give up on anything to save her life. Santana accepted it, with a sort of resigned annoyance at the diva. And she'd be there when Rachel couldn't crack the ice walls and came crying to Santana and Brittany. Rachel was her best friend, and she might throw in a few 'I told you so's, but she'd always be there for her. It just wasn't in Rachel's nature to quit.

And, as she suspected, when Rachel finally let her go she didn't say a word about stopping her crusade to be Quinn's friend, just took Santana's hand in her left and Brittany's in her right and walked them to their seats in the choir room.

Mr. Schuester chose that exact moment to come in. His office was directly connected to the glee club room, so it was more than likely he had heard the yelling. If it had been Finn or Puck, or even Rachel herself, Mr. Schue might have come in to see what was the matter and try to help calm the situation down. But it had been Santana Lopez and it was really better for everyone involved to just let Santana get it out of her system and calm back down.

Rachel didn't speak up for most of Glee. She didn't stay entirely quiet, because even deep in thought she simply couldn't, but Santana's tale of Quinn's rejection was a lot to take in. It was hard to understand. Rachel was sure she wouldn't unless she got the explanation from Quinn herself. But going from best friends to the type of ice-out that Santana had described, that took something drastic. Something must have happened that Santana and Brittany didn't know about, it was the only explanation.

Rachel had no idea what it could have been, and clearly none of the three involved were going to say anything about it. But Rachel had the sneaking suspicion that the answer to that question was the only way that any of this was going to get fixed. And maybe it had to do with why Quinn was the way she was. There was only one way to find out.

By the end of glee club Rachel, Santana and Brittany were back to normal, laughing and chatting and heading over to Santana's for Mrs. Lopez's famous after-school snacks, but each of them knew that this was far from over. It was going to be one more day of sweeping everything under the rug.

.

That night, Rachel got a text.

_Heard you were asking questions about me._

It was from an unknown number, but Rachel instantly knew who it was. She'd given Quinn her cell weeks before, but Quinn had made a big show of crumpling the paper into a ball before throwing it in her bag, so Rachel had assumed she'd eventually have to give the girl her number again. Without asking confirmation first she saved the number as Quinn in her contacts. Quickly she texted back.

**_This is Quinn, yes? I do apologize, I was curious. I should have asked you, but with everything that happened I figured that I should make things right with us first, but I wanted to know. ~Rachel Barbra Berry_**

Rachel waited anxiously for a reply, playing a game of Solitaire on her phone until she was alerted to a new text at the top of her screen.

_Ya okay Berry I get it. Wanted to know if your new obsession was a violent deviant, right?_

**_Well I didn't think you were, but hearing about it did raise questions. ~Rachel Barbra Berry_**

_Did you set your name to be at the end of all your text messages?_

**_I did. ~Rachel Barbra Berry_**

_Rachel, you know your name shows up at the top of the screen for every text right? Jeez, I can't believe Santana hasn't totally laughed you into another dimension._

**_I'm not allowed to text her anymore. ~Rachel Barbra Berry_**

_Turn it off, Berry, I'm begging ya._

**_Fine, give me a second. ~Rachel Barbra Berry_**

**_There, is that better, Quinn?_**

_Much much._

**_Well I'm glad to have pleased you. Can I ask you about the incident, then?_**

_Mmm, depends on what you wanna know._

**_Well the logical question is WHY did you break Phil Ritter's nose._**

_Because he's a jerk._

**_Ms. Pillsbury implied that you were defending someone. What was he doing?_**

_Being a jerk_

**_Quinn that isn't an answer._**

_Yes it is. That's what you're getting, Rach. You don't really want to know._

**_Of course I do! Quinn, he is still going to our school. If it's serious I want to know!_**

There was a long pause between texts and Rachel was worried she'd scared Quinn off. She was about to apologize and tell Quinn to forget the whole thing when she got a text back.

_Just don't be alone with him, Rachel. _

**_That's ominous._**

_Yeah_

**_Was he hurting someone?_**

_Yeah_

**_What was he doing? To who?_**

_Rachel, come on. It's shitty._

**_Tell me_**

Another pause, but this time Rachel was sure that Quinn was going to reply. Finally:

_He was feeling up a girl in the hallway. She didn't invite him to, so I punched him._

Rachel couldn't believe what she was reading, and yet it was what she had been dreading. She'd hoped it was something else, like he had been beating up a freshman. She could have sent Finn and Puck to sort him out. But this…

**_I don't blame you_**

_You don't? Rachel Berry, are you condoning violence?_

**_Yes._**

_... oh. kay._

**_He deserved what he got. I would have done the same in your position._**

_Ya, he deserved it._

**_I'm glad you were there to help that girl, Quinn._**

_k. see you tomorrow._

**_See you tomorrow, Quinn. Have a nice night._**

Rachel didn't expect a reply, so she put her phone down. To her surprise a few moments later her phone buzzed. She picked it back up.

_You too._

Rachel smiled.

**At the start of this fic the plan was to be finished by the end of the last season, before I realized Fox had only ordered 13 episodes to finish up. I hadn't really been keeping up with Glee, I stopped being an avid watcher after season 3. The small order of episodes is not entirely a surprise since Glee has been horrible, but that being said I don't think this fic will be finished by the end. I'll be trying to keep the same pace that I've set, but school might get in the way. Thank you for your support!**


	6. Chapter 6

Quinn lay in bed, her arm across her forehead as she stared at her ceiling. She really hadn't been expecting the response she'd gotten from Rachel. Rachel Berry, condoning, no, _praising_ Quinn punching Ritter in the face. Ms. P cared about that kind of stuff, but that was because she cared about people more than anyone in the whole world. Other people didn't care about that kind of stuff. Rachel didn't even know the girl that Ritter had been going after. If Rachel knew it was Mack she probably would think Mack was asking for it… And if she knew about Quinn-

Quinn slapped both her cheeks sharply with her palms, stopping that train of thought in its tracks. The point was, Rachel Berry was weird and Quinn couldn't quite figure her out. Sure, on the surface Rachel seemed pretty straightforward. But _no one_ was that earnest, no one was that animated and happy and vivacious. Rachel Berry, simply put, could not be _real_.

Yet here they were weeks into their relationship, whatever it was, and Rachel hadn't given up trying to get Quinn to accept her friendship. Quinn had barricaded her in every way she knew how short of the extreme measures she'd gone to in getting Santana and Brittany to stop calling. And that- that had taken everything she had in her the first time around. She'd been the living dead for months after that, so depressed she almost gave up. Thought that life might not have been worth it, if this was all it was going to be. Lonely and shameful and painful.

Celibacy club had come around in the nick of time. And she'd thought that might be enough, her very own floating piece of wood in ice-cold waters.

Even so she had roboted her way through life for a little more than a year, and then the Skanks had trampled into her space under the bleachers and into her life.

Rachel was trying to offer her more, without knowing that Quinn Fabray _couldn't_ have more. That Quinn wasn't worth offering more. Rachel would eventually end this crusade with disappointment. That almost made Quinn sad. Ultimately it was Rachel's own fault, though, and maybe it would help in curbing that insane optimism the little diva had going for her.

And maybe it would be nice to have another foothold for a time. A year and a half was looking longer and longer as things at home got worse.

Quinn could be a little selfish, then, and let Rachel keep trying until she gave up. In the meantime, Quinn could have one more distraction. Rachel wasn't a bad option as distractions went. Sure she was grating and naïve and completely obnoxious, but she wasn't a bitch or a jerk or any of the other stereotypical popular archetypes. Rachel was amusing in her own way. Had already made her smile more in a little more than two weeks than the Skanks had in a year.

Ms. P still held the record, but Quinn wasn't about to hold her breath on Rachel breaking it anytime soon. Ms. P was special. She wasn't trapped in the maze of high school expectations. And she was _Ms. P_.

Quinn grabbed her pillow from under her head and curled around it, burying her face in it. What a selfish decision, to let Rachel burn herself out over her. She really was the worst kind of person.

And clearly, she didn't have enough willpower to change her mind.

.

Quinn walked into school the next morning with a clear head, having gotten some of the best sleep she'd had in ages, despite the realization that she was a selfish fool. Her dad had been away, and she was well rested and she hadn't had to take an hour-long shower at any point in the night or morning. All good things.

That's why she was alert enough to hear a scuffle down what would have been a normally empty hallway at this time in the morning, and she followed the noise to make sure one of her Skanks hadn't gotten into any early-morning trouble, as unlikely as that seemed. She wasn't sure Ronnie, Sheila or Mack had ever gotten to school before the middle of first period.

When she peeked around the corner she saw two of the football jocks, the quarterback Finn Hudson and a boy she was pretty sure was named Puck, pinning Phil Ritter to a row of lockers. She stayed put, her mind whirring. Weren't Finn and Puck two of Rachel's Glee friends…? This couldn't be a coincidence, after last night.

Oh no. She _hadn't_.

But as if hearing her question, the boys started to speak.

"What is this? You said you wanted to talk to me about football tryouts next year, why are you hounding me?"

"Because we heard that you got your nose broke earlier this year for assaulting a girl in a hallway!" The bronze boy Puck growled, shoving Ritter again.

"That's not cool, man!" Finn added with a befuddled frown on his face, like he couldn't quite believe it could have happened. "You don't do that stuff."

"Yeah, Pinkie should have broke more than your nose," Puck yelled, clearly getting more worked up. From her hiding place Quinn huffed in annoyance. Yeah, like breaking more than his nose wasn't a sure ticket to expulsion.

"What are you t-talking about, I don't know-"

"Don't be any more of a pussy than you already have been Ritter! You're a scumbag, and if you lie to me one more time I'm going to re-break your nose." Puck cracked his knuckles as if to emphasize.

"Okay, okay!" Ritter held up his hands and tried to shrink lower to the ground, sliding down the lockers as he did. "I don't understand, why is this coming up now? She was just some Skank!"

"Just some-" Finn started in outraged disbelief, but before he could finish there was a muted '_whuff'_ as Ritter doubled over in pain, Puck's fist in his gut.

"Don't you ever, ever think about hurting another girl at this school, got it?" Puck said into Ritter's ear, and the pathetic boy nodded as he whimpered.

"Puck," Finn warned, looking around. He almost caught sight of Quinn, but she ducked back around the corner as his head swung around.

"It's okay, I got this," Puck said, and when Quinn looked back Puck was standing a few feet away again, the only sign of his ever having touched Ritter the way that the other boy was still slightly doubled over.

Finn's brow furrowed in anger and he said, "Now, pretty much the first request the person who told us about this had was that we get you to leave the school. I don't think we can do that, even if we are mad scary when there's more of us, so we figured something else out. You're banned."

"W-what?" Ritter choked out.

"You're banned. From everything. If we see you at a party, at a game that isn't one of your dumb hockey matches, at a table that isn't located within smelling distance of the trashcans, we're coming for you. Like, Fight Club style."

"I think you got that reference wrong, dude," Puck said, but he was otherwise nodding in agreement. "And Ritter, if you even look at a girl wrong I'm going to kick your nards in. And you'll have no proof it was me, and no one will rat. Disclaimer, man. I've heard they're good."

"You can't do that! I don't _understand_, why do you care what happens to some-"

"If you finish that thought, I swear to Jewish Jesus that you're going to be missing all your teeth in the next few minutes," Puck growled, both his and Finn's eyes narrowed into slits. Ritter wisely clammed up.

Quinn heard the two boys storm off and didn't wait for Ritter to move, stomping off herself in the direction of her first class.

Oh, she was going to _kill_ Rachel Berry.

.

Rachel was feeling quite proud of herself. She'd texted Finn and Puck early that morning, telling them what she had learned. Finn had replied with misspelled questions, but Puck had just said, "I got this", after reading Rachel's five and a half paragraph text about what she wanted him to do about Phillip Ritter. She had very nearly gone off to scream at Ritter herself, but had realized shortly that she was about two feet and one hundred pounds short of intimidating the disgusting boy. She'd considered texting Santana, but had stopped short because she hadn't wanted Santana to be charged with murder so young.

Puck and Finn were her next best enforcers. Quinn breaking Phillip's nose was all well and good, but Rachel had a social order to maintain. Phillip probably had not taken Quinn's vengeance as word of law, and Rachel had to make sure that he did in fact know that what he had done was not only unacceptable in her reign, but abhorrent.

She hadn't planned on telling Quinn about what she'd done, but she was nevertheless bursting with pride as she waited to see Quinn in Spanish class. She would have to contain her excitement.

So Rachel was unprepared for a fuming Quinn to round the corner of the door, zero in on her, and march up to her with a livid snarl on her face. Rachel quailed in alarm. "Wh-what-?"

"Come with me," Quinn snapped, grabbing Rachel's arm and pulling her out of her seat.

"Quinn, class is about to start!"

"We aren't staying. Come. With me."

Rachel continued to protest even as she grabbed her bag before she left, passing a confused and attack-ready Santana and just confused Brittany in the hall. Santana nearly launched herself at Quinn before Rachel shooed her off, giving her a thumbs up and small wave as they disappeared from Santana's view.

They headed toward the bleachers, and Rachel still mumbling protests as Quinn practically shoved her into sitting down on a raggedy couch Rachel had not known was under the bleachers. To the side, the three other Skanks loitered, watching the scene play out with obvious surprise.

"_What_ did you do, Berry?" Quinn snapped, crossing her arms over her leather jacket.

Rachel looked around. Quinn obviously knew about Phillip Ritter, but how she knew and why she was so upset was lost on Rachel. She didn't see the point of claiming ignorance, so she said, "I made sure that Phillip Ritter knew that his actions were not just frowned upon in your neck of the woods."

"Ritter?" the thinnest of the three Skanks standing apart questioned loudly, and before Rachel knew what was happening the girl had marched over to Quinn and punched her hard in the shoulder. Quinn flinched but didn't seem too surprised by the girl's reaction.

"Excuse me!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Shut up, twinkle toes," the girl said, holding up her hand in Rachel's face but not looking at her. "Fabray, you _fuck_, did you tell this chick about that? That's barely even _your_ business, let alone hers!"

"I didn't tell her specifics, Mack, but I'm pretty sure she's not stupid, so this isn't really helping out with the anonymity thing!"

Mack glared at Quinn, and Rachel's heart sank. "Were you the one who-" Mack's head whipped around and she raised her fist, clearly about to punch Rachel too, but Quinn stepped in her way. "Look, totally hit me, that's pretty justified, but Berry's just a naïve wooly-hearted kid in all this."

"I'm not a kid!" Rachel protested, but the girls were having a stare-off and didn't look at her. From the side one of the other girls snorted.

Mack finally turned away and marched back over to the other two girls, saying something quietly to them. They started to clear out, until Quinn said, "Wait."

All three girls turned to glare at her, but Quinn held their gaze. "I brought Berry hear to tell her some unkind truths about this school. She seems to think it's some bastion of hope and love, but we know better, don't we girls?"

The two girls who Rachel hadn't been introduced to snickered, but Mack stayed silent, still furious. Quinn smiled tightly, holding out both hands. "What, you don't want to pop her bubble?"

Mack exchanged looks with both girls, then all three returned and suddenly Rachel was surrounded by four Skanks.

"Oh god, please don't hit my face."

"You little bitch," Mack snarled, but Quinn held up a hand.

"Rachel, shut the hell up. I can't make them lay off forever, and your mouth is gonna keep picking away at their patience."

Rachel snapped her mouth shut, sucking in her lips and biting down.

"Berry, this is The Mack, Sheila and Ronnie," Quinn said, gesturing first to Mack, and then to the heavy black girl and finally the other heavyset girl. "Bet you didn't know their names. Too lowly, right?"

"Quinn, that's not at all fair," Rachel started to exclaim, but the four girls started laughing at her anger.

"Ah, shut it, midget," Shelia said, still laughing. "Like we care if you know our names?"

"Do we look like we wanna know you?" Ronnie asked, grinning wickedly.

Rachel closed her mouth again.

"Guess what Berry decided would be a good idea, girls," Quinn said, anger creeping back into her voice. "She decided to sic two of her lap dogs on Ritter to tell him what he did wasn't 'kosher'. Because that's her job, get it?"

"The fuck, Fabray!" Ronnie exclaimed, suddenly looking worried. She looked between all the girls. "Anybody seen Rigby?"

"We'll go look for him, promise," Quinn assured her mildly distressed friend. "We'll make Berry come with us."

"Who's-" Rachel began, but she was ignored.

"You're unbelievable," Mack said, brow creased with anger. "No wonder we get so much shit."

"I don't understand!" Rachel said, pounding her fists on the couch and causing a cloud of dust to rise.

"Berry, think. Do you actually believe that bullies cease to exist when they're told they can't pick on a certain group of people?" Quinn demanded.

"We don't have bullies, not like you're implying, I made sure-"

"Are you positive I can't sock the bitch, Q?" Sheila demanded, hitting her right fist against her left palm.

"Positive. She's just dumb, that's all."

"I'm NOT-"

"Be quiet and _listen_, for once in your life," Quinn said, but her tone was more tired now, and Rachel started to feel anxious.

"Look, I'm not saying your little crusade isn't admirable, or whatever, but you forget about people who have nothing to do with you. Bullies can't spread their animosity around, and, well-"

"We get shit on," Mack finished.

"No, that can't be right, we _watch_ for bullies!"

Quinn rubbed a hand over face, and turned to her friends. "Come on, let's go look for Rigby."

All four girls started to leave, and when they noticed Rachel wasn't following Quinn grabbed her and hauled her to her feet. As they walked, Quinn spoke in a low monotone. "You _don't_ watch after you've gone on your crusade, and when you do shit to people, like pinning Ritter against a wall and telling him he isn't invited to your tea parties, he goes out and takes it out on us."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "What do you mean by that?"

The girls circled the school, finding themselves by the dumpsters behind the cafeteria. For some reason there were bricks piled on top of one of them, and the Skanks rushed over and began to clear them. Rachel hung back, confused.

When the Skanks could finally lift the lid, all the remaining bricks sliding off the back and clattering to the concrete ground, Ronnie pushed the other girls aside and reached in, pulling out a scrawny, bespectacled boy who must have been a freshman. Ronnie wrapped the boy up in a tight embrace, petting his head. The boy had a black eye and welts on his bare arms, from where it looked like someone had twisted the skin hard enough to burn it. Rachel felt like being sick.

"That's Rigby," Quinn supplied, shrugging a shoulder. "He's Ronnie's- eh, friend? Who knows. Ronnie loves the kid. She's practically adopted him, though you won't catch her telling that to anyone. He's a geek, and he'd probably be one of yours, but of course he can't _sing,_ and he doesn't have any friends to speak of. So there goes that protection."

"We have to do something, tell someone!" Rachel exclaimed.

All four Skanks looked at her and yelled at varying levels, "No!" Rigby looked at Rachel like she was crazy.

"What?! Why not!"

"Because it'll only get worse!" Sheila growled, as if it was entirely too obvious.

Rachel shook her head. "But it won't get _better_ if you don't ask for help!"

"Like anyone wants to give any of _us_ help," Mack said bitterly. Slowly, Quinn nodded in agreement.

"No, you can't think like that," Rachel said, clutching her hands in front of her. "People want to help! They really do. I'm sorry I didn't notice, I'm sorry that people haven't noticed what's been happening to you all. That's not fair, and it's not right. And I wish I'd noticed instead of having to be told, really and truly, but nobody is perfect. Even if by all rights someone _should_ have noticed and helped you, sometimes people just fail. So you have to ask! I know that you shouldn't have to beg for people to figure out that you're hurting… but please, sometimes we just don't know."

The four Skanks just stared at her silently. Finally, little Rigby spoke up, "Who are we supposed to tell?"

"Well, who do you normally tell?" Rachel asked. Rigby, Ronnie and Sheila looked at one another and then shook their heads. Mack crossed her arms and glowered at the ground, and Quinn seemed frozen in place.

"Okay… well what do you normally do?" Rachel asked somberly.

"Hide," Rigby said.

"Beat up the littler Cheerios," Sheila said, and Ronnie nodded in agreement.

"Don't be where you shouldn't," Mack supplied in a low mumble Rachel barely caught.

"… keep your head down," Quinn said softly.

"Has any of that worked? Has any of it ever worked, truly, for any good amount of time?" Rachel asked, tears growing in her eyes. She was surprised at how concerned she was for these people, who she never thought she'd spare a moment for, but especially, _especially_ for pale, quiet Quinn.

None of them said anything.

"Please, I know it's hard. Trust me, I _know_. But you have to ask for help. You just have to. Or nothing will change. And as for who… Well, how about Ms. Pillsbury?"

"That ginger fluffhead?" Mack asked in disbelief.

"Back off," Quinn snapped. Mack shrugged, clearly still unhappy.

"Will she help?" Rigby asked, pushing away slightly from Ronnie.

"She'll do everything she can. If she has trouble with getting the help you need, tell your parents!" Rachel replied.

Rigby deflated slightly, kicking the ground. "My dad thinks I should handle it on my own."

Rachel felt like she'd been punched. His dad wouldn't help? She cast glances at all the Skanks, who seemed unwilling to meet her eyes. Did all of them- didn't any of them have supportive parents? Rachel's eyes rested on Quinn, who was biting at the side of her thumb.

"Well, well-" Rachel faltered, unsure of what to say. She couldn't imagine it, having parents who wouldn't help… and if Ms. Pillsbury, the member of staff who was supposed to help with these things couldn't, then-

"Then come to me," a sharp voice behind them said.

All six kids whirled around. Sue Sylvester stood with her hands on her hips. "Excuse the interruption, I noticed my little Twinkles lurking next to a dumpster and had to come investigate."

"You don't care about us," Mack objected.

"No, not really," Sue said with a shrug, stepping forward. "And heck, I think a little bullying builds character. But this?" Sue took one of Rigby's arms in her hand and he winced in discomfort. Sue frowned. "This is despicable. Cowardly. I don't hold with cowards."

Rachel could have hugged Coach Sylvester, she was so glad to see her and so grateful for her words.

"Berry, front and center," Sue snapped. Rachel jumped to attention. Sue put both hands on Rigby's shoulders, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable, but she didn't seem to notice. "Am I to understand that this morning you ordered a hit, and you did not deign it necessary to tell me the conditions that spurred this decision?"

"I- how did you know about that?"

"Your little warblers are extremely bad at keeping secrets, and Porcelain and Aretha were talking about it in front of my office. I asked Lopez, but she seemed not to know what I was talking about, so I called Hummel and Jones into my office for a bit of an interrogation. Apparently word got around your club that a boy hurt a girl in the hallway, and you got Lurch and the Manwhore to take care of him."

Rachel swallowed, not looking at Mack or Quinn, but nodded mutely. Sue narrowed her eyes. "I'm disappointed in you, Berry. _More_ disappointed in that moron Figgins, but disappointed in you nonetheless. You should have come straight to me and told me what you learned. I'd have gotten the kid expelled, or at the very least punished further than he was. Instead you tried to impose student justice on a very serious matter."

"I'm sorry, Coach Sylvester," Rachel said quietly, eyes downcast.

"As you should be," Sue said with a nod. She turned to look at Quinn. "And _you_."

Quinn hesitantly stepped forward. Sue leveled a glare. "You punched a boy, who don't get me wrong thoroughly deserved it, but when you found out nothing much was going to be done to punish him you didn't come _straight to me_?"

"I- I didn't really think we were on those kinds of terms, Coach," Quinn softly replied.

"Bull roar!" Sue said, actually looking mad. "These are the exact terms we are on, Fabray. I may not like you sniveling excuses for human beings, but I'll be damned if any of you get hurt like that when I'm around. Don't you _dare_ think of not telling me again!"

Quinn was quiet for an extended period of time, and Rachel looked at her questioningly, until finally Quinn said with voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, Coach."

Sue stared long and hard at Quinn, and at last she gave a curt nod and started steering Rigby towards her office. "Get lost, all of you. I'll be taking care of this little gentleman from here on, so go back to skulking in the shadows."

Sylvester and Rigby disappeared back into the building, leaving the five girls standing around by the dumpster. Sheila and Ronnie exchanged a look, then turned to Rachel. "So Ms. Pillsbury, huh?" Mack didn't say anything, but she took a step back towards the three of them.

It took Rachel a minute to notice that Quinn had disappeared.

**Someone got angry in reviews that I insulted Glee. Well, that person should probably not have an extended conversation with me about the management of the show. Probably nobody should, I get very angry.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Trigger warning for mentions of sexual abuse.**

Quinn fled like a fox with hounds on her heels.

Why had Coach Sylvester come out like that? And what had she been talking about? God, it felt just like freshman year, the coach's eyes boring into her soul. Fuck her, and fuck Rachel, that nosy busybody. All that girl's fake concern, fake righteous rage, it was going to screw Quinn over in the end. What had she been thinking, letting her get even a fraction of the amount close that she had? She hadn't realized Berry was fucking mental.

Quinn liked Mack, but it had been _her_ fault for not fighting back, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, for being a girl. It was _Quinn's_ fault the same way, with all that happened at home. Rachel should know that. Rachel should know that it was _because_ of them, and getting angry about it in the way that she had just didn't make any sense. It was an overreaction, and a punch to the nose to get Ritter to back off was what had needed to happen in the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

Quinn found herself standing in front of Ms. Pillsbury's office, a place she had never set foot in, even if she had lurked outside of it a few times waiting on her favorite teacher to come out. She wrung her hands, looking up and down the hallway to see if anyone was there. Class was still in session. Quinn ducked inside Ms. P's office.

Ms. Pillsbury looked up and her deer eyes widened at the site of the pink-haired punk. "Quinn! Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Quinn shrugged one shoulder, eyes flicking towards the huge floor length windows that were where a wall should be. Without needing to ask, Ms. P stood and rounded her desk, pulling the blinds on the windows in her office. "Quinn, what's up?"

"Nothing," Quinn breathed, biting at the side of her thumb again. "Just wanted-" Quinn stopped, shaking her head.

Ms. Pillsbury nodded, gesturing towards the seat in front of her desk. "Feel free to sit down, we can just hang out here."

Quinn closed her eyes. She knew that Ms. P was trying to shrink her, trying to get her to open up. Quinn wouldn't, she _couldn't_, but still she found herself sitting down, putting her elbows on her knees and chewing at the skin on the side of her thumb until she tasted blood.

"Oh my goodness, Quinn!" Suddenly Ms. P was kneeling in front of her, pulling her hand away from her mouth. She cradled Quinn's hand in her own, her face taut with distress at the blood threatening to fall from Quinn's wound onto her skin. But still Ms. P held on, keeping Quinn's hand away from further injury, as if she could stomach it for Quinn's sake. Quinn wanted to protest the very notion at the top of her lungs. Quinn tried to tug away but Ms. P held on. She was stronger than Quinn had thought. "Stop that, right now. You're hurting yourself."

"It's okay, Ms. P. You don't have to worry. I wasn't doing it on purpose," Quinn whispered, curling her thumb a few times. It didn't hurt. Or maybe it did but Quinn couldn't feel it. Her mind was too busy with other things.

"It doesn't make me worry less to know that you didn't notice you were biting yourself hard enough to break the skin," Ms. Pillsbury replied, doe eyes swimming with worry.

Quinn shrugged again, letting out a dry laugh. "Distracted, I guess."

"Can I ask by what?" Quinn almost cracked an English joke, as if she was a teacher correcting Ms. Pillsbury's grammar. _You __**can**__ ask_. But Quinn kept her mouth shut, pursing her lips and looking down at her thumb until Ms. Pillsbury sighed, letting go of Quinn's hand only long enough to go to the other side of her desk and get her disinfectant spray for cuts and a box of Band-Aids. Quinn watched with a sort of amused interest as Ms. P carefully sprayed and wiped the injury clean, then took out a bandage and wrapped it around her finger. The last person besides herself to do something like that was-

_Santana, 7__th__ grade. That fight you two had gotten into with the boy who'd called Brittany stupid. Basically uninjured, one of the boys had got in a lucky shot and split your eyebrow. Santana always had Band-Aids._

All these people wasting time on Quinn, when all she wanted was to keep her head down and survive until college. Why did this keep happening? She'd never asked for any of it, and most people took the hint. Even Santana had only been intended as a friend to defy her dad and talk to the other kids at school, she hadn't meant for things to get so-

Friends complicated things.

But, as it turned out, even Quinn Fabray couldn't live on the fumes of human contact alone. She wanted the connections she couldn't have, she wanted the love she didn't deserve.

Quinn felt the base of her throat grow stiff with contained sobs, and she stood abruptly and yanked her hand out of Ms. Pillsbury's hold. No, no _way_ was she crying. Not in front of Ms. P. Ms. Pillsbury would start asking her all sorts of questions, feeling obligated to do her job and fix what was wrong.

Or worse, Ms. P would ask because she actually _cared_.

Quinn jerked towards the door, but suddenly she could barely see through tears and the sobs she'd been holding back ripped from her throat, even as she wrapped fingers around her neck to contain them, trying to strangle them back into submission. Ms. Pillsbury fluttered into view, a blur of red hair in a murky world, and another sob escaped her mouth, and before she knew what was happening Ms. Pillsbury had moved Quinn's hands from her throat and wrapped her arms around the girl, murmuring soothing nonsense into her ear and rubbing her hands up and down Quinn's back. Quinn's fingers curled into claws at Ms. Pillsbury's side, ready to rip the counselor away, but as she reached towards Ms. P they softened on their own and wove around the woman's back as Quinn sagged into her. Without meaning to Quinn let go of her hold on herself, inhuman noises hiccupping from her mouth and tears streaming down her face.

Why was this happening? What had Rachel torn out of her _now_?

Ms. Pillsbury just hugged her, let her cry herself out. After Quinn was done, she asked one more time if Quinn wanted to talk. When Quinn shook her head no, Ms. P nodded and pulled out their PB&J sandwich early, offering Quinn her half.

.

Rachel didn't see Quinn for the rest of the day, which was not really a surprise since after Spanish she rarely saw the girl, but it was still disconcerting. Quinn had left in such a hurry after an intense situation, without a goodbye. She had clearly been upset by the whole thing. While Rachel empathized, she also knew that it was a _good_ thing to tell the Skanks asking for help was important. Ronnie and Sheila had even seemed interested in the possibility of getting the help they needed.

It was a relief that her words had been heard by someone. But it was disappointing and not just a little worrying that _Quinn_ hadn't heard them. Rachel couldn't banish the guilt she felt, that she hadn't noticed that bullies still ran rampant through McKinley High. That the bullies were even worse than she'd imagined possible. Physical assault? _Sexual_ assault? How many more girls like Mack were there? How could the administration know and not do _anything_?

And the worst part of it all was that Ms. Sylvester was right. Rachel had tried to get other students to punish Phillip, as if student justice was enough. It absolutely was not, these assaults were too serious a matter to try and contain it through high school politics. The faculty _had_ failed them. But there were other resources. If Rachel had thought it important enough, she'd have told her parents, and if she'd been able to get corroboration she _could_ have gotten the police involved. Rachel had thought herself powerful enough to stop the abuse, and her arrogance could have been disastrous.

Rachel started to walk into glee club, but before she could take one step in, a very angry latina pushed her back into the hallway and nearly pinned her against the lockers.

"What's this shit about Fabray, someone hurt her?" Santana snapped, worry bleeding through the anger. Through Rachel's surprise she felt a small amount of vindication at the proof that Santana still cared.

"Not her, Santana, don't worry. Quinn was defending one of her friends." Santana practically recoiled at the use of 'Quinn' and 'friends' in the same sentence, so Rachel quickly amended, "You know, one of the Skanks. Quinn's a member, but it seems like more of a school thing."

"Quinn isn't a Skank," Santana said with a roll of her eyes. "She's too WASPy to ever be a real Skank. Girl can dye her hair and smell like an ashtray, she's still an ice queen."

"Well, I don't know about WASPy, but Quinn is definitely not a Skank, not really. She's… Quinn."

"She's Quinn," Santana repeated, sagging a little. "So she was defending someone, huh? I taught her how to do that. Not that Fabray ever got into fights on the regular, too prim and proper, but she joined me in a couple."

"Did she really?" Rachel asked with a laugh, drinking in anything she could learn about the friendship between Quinn, San, and Britt.

"Yeah, both times some douchenozzle insulted Britt, so she jumped in."

"Oh, and you don't know about the time someone called you a bad word and Q kicked them in the balls," Brittany supplied as she popped up behind Santana.

"She what?" Santana squawked, spinning on her heel to face her girlfriend.

Brittany deflated slightly. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that, she made me pinky swear."

Santana's brow creased, confusion painting her face. Brittany rocked forward on her toes, her hands held behind her back as she teetered. "It was in eighth grade, Q and I were waiting out in the courtyard for you to get out of detention, and we heard a boy insulting you, he called you a wetback. I mean, mostly your back gets wet from sweat when we get it on so I didn't really get it, but Quinn got so mad. She started screaming at him, real Quinn screaming, and she kicked him hard."

Santana was shaking her head, but her eyes were glistening. "You can't be serious."

"Yeah, it was really scary. And super hot," Brittany confirmed.

"I can't believe this, I can't believe I didn't know this. Why did she want to hide this from me?!" Santana exploded, walking away from Rachel and Brittany and swearing long and loud in Spanish. Rachel and Brittany let her cool down, which took a good five minutes. Mr. Schuester walked out into the hallway, saw what was happening, and closed the door to the choir room.

Santana eventually wandered back. She hadn't cried, but her eyes were red rimmed with the threat of tears and she looked miserable. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana and put her chin on her girlfriend's shoulder.

Rachel put her hand on Santana's shoulder. "She didn't want you to know."

"Obviously she didn't want me to know!" Santana said, trying to keep the wobble out of her voice.

"No, San. What I mean is, she didn't want you to know how much she loved you."

Santana's mask cracked, and she hid her face against her girlfriend's shoulder. Muffled by a thick throat and her girlfriend's shirt, Santana groaned, "This is so stupid! I never wanted to stop being her fucking friend. Did she even want to stop being mine?"

Rachel shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Santana, but… well, I mean, maybe you can ask her?"

Santana snarled deep in her throat, peeking out from her girlfriend's embrace to cast a scathing look at Rachel. "I tried to ask her and she ran away from me every chance."

"That was two years ago. Surely there's enough distance from it for you two to have a civil conversation. You're talking in Spanish class, after all. She can't run from you there."

The thing about Santana, Rachel had found, was that she put up a really strong front, but with those that she loved and trusted she was extremely vulnerable to hurt. If someone she cared for betrayed her, it cut deep. And Santana was a stubborn person, the most stubborn person Rachel had ever met besides herself (and now Quinn was vying for a position there). Santana was rarely, if ever, the one to take the first step towards a resolution. This was fine for Rachel because she was always willing to take first steps. Quinn, on the other hand…

Santana and Brittany peeled apart, Santana looking much better if still frustrated, and the three of them finally went into glee.

Halfway through club, Mr. Schue looked down at his phone and frowned.

At the end of club he stopped Rachel. Santana and Brittany lingered to wait.

"Rachel, Ms. Pillsbury asked me to request you meet her in her office after glee club. Are you in trouble?"

Rachel shrank a little. Had Quinn told Ms. Pillsbury about her mistake? Ms. Pillsbury had supplied some information on what the fight had been about, was she going to be angry that Rachel had taken it further and betrayed trust?

"Is this about Quinn?" Santana demanded, suddenly at Rachel's shoulder.

"I- I don't know," Rachel replied. She thought it might, but she couldn't say definitively.

"I'm coming with," Santana announced, and before Rachel could protest Santana and Brittany were leaving the choir room and heading toward the counselor's office. Rachel jogged to keep up, getting in front of them so that she'd be the first to enter Ms. Pillsbury's office and be able to announce the coming storm.

Needless to say, Ms. Pillsbury was unprepared for the three New Directions girls invading her office. She knew Santana only by reputation (and what a reputation it was) and every Glee club competition. She'd never had a conversation with the girl. As for Brittany Pierce… Emma only knew her as the ditzy type. Popular, bubbly, blonde.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Pillsbury, I know you only asked for me but my friends insisted-"

"What's going on with Fabray?" Santana demanded.

Ms. Pillsbury was generally perceived by the student body as weak, but in that moment they were proved wrong as she straightened her back and said fiercely, "Santana, you forced your way into this conversation and you may find it surprising to know that I can change that very easily and not include you in any way. I asked for Rachel and had no intention of speaking to you on this, as it's not your business."

"I'm sorry San is roaring, she does it when she's scared. Is it about Quinn?" Brittany asked nervously, biting her lip.

Ms. Pillsbury looked from girl to girl, then she started slowly, "Rachel…"

"I sincerely apologize, but I assure you if it is about Quinn Fabray, everyone in this room cares about her deeply. Including you, I suspect."

Emma Pillsbury sighed, running her hand across her face. "This is not at all how I wanted this to go. But I'm too worried about Quinn to put this off. Rachel, you've been hanging out with Quinn recently? You've become her friend?"

"Yes," Rachel replied uncertainly, unsure of where this was headed.

"Did you talk to her today?"

"Yes, earlier. But I haven't seen her since Spanish period."

"Did she- did you upset her in any way, or did she seem upset?"

Rachel bristled slightly. "We had an intense conversation, and truthfully she did seem upset, but all I said was that she needed to tell someone if something was wrong, when she was being bullied, or it would never get better."

"I see…" Ms. Pillsbury tented her fingers and pressed them to her lips in thought. After a pause, she said, "I completely agree with you, Rachel. And I'd like to ask a favor."

"What?"

"Keep at it. Don't let her push you away." Ms. Pillsbury's eyes were more serious than Rachel had ever seen them. "You're pushing buttons that I think need to be pushed. Quinn works very hard to push people away from her, and she's seeming more and more… lost. It's heartbreaking. I _refuse_ to let her get lost. But I can only do so much, you understand. I'm not her peer the way that you are, and I can't provide what you can because of our limits and boundaries. You don't have those limits."

"Did something happen?" Rachel asked quietly, fearing the answer.

Ms. Pillsbury paused again, seeming to consider. "Not anything like you're thinking, I don't believe. If it was anything I could- You have to understand, a lot of this is based on a _feeling_ that something isn't right."

"I know that feeling, Ms. Pillsbury," Rachel said softly, worrying her lip.

"…something's always been off with Q, I just didn't really know what to do about it," Santana said with a self-conscious shrug. "She isn't exactly the share-y type, you know?"

Rachel found the information that something had always been off with Quinn more than a little upsetting. On the one hand, she wished Santana or Brittany had figured out what it was. But Rachel knew it wasn't their fault that they hadn't. They had been middle-schoolers then. And them not chasing down answers didn't mean they hadn't _cared_, it meant they were young. "I'm sure you did your best by her," Rachel soothed, but the scowl on Santana's face, directed at no one in particular, didn't fade.

"I didn't know you knew Quinn," Ms. Pillsbury ventured delicately.

When Santana didn't offer answers, Brittany replied, "We were best friends with her before high school. San's mom called us the Unholy Trinity, we were so close. Quinn didn't like that much, though, she said it was shackledge."

"Sacrilege, Britt Britt," Santana corrected automatically.

"Yeah, that."

"Best friends?" Ms. Pillsbury seemed shocked at the very idea. "I didn't know- Quinn never said. Why did you stop being her friend?"

Santana stiffened, eyes flashing dangerously, but she didn't explode into a tirade again. Rachel answered instead. "Quinn stopped talking to them both at the beginning of high school. She didn't give a reason, it was unexpected."

"I see," Ms. Pillsbury said, surveying the girls who had been Quinn's best friends with critical eyes. Rachel wondered if Ms. Pillsbury was questioning if she could place blame on them, for what had happened. Rachel hoped she wouldn't, and given some time the counselor would be reasonable. Ms. Pillsbury had always seemed fair.

The redheaded woman stood. "So will you- will all three of you do it? Keep an eye on her, push the buttons that need to be pushed? I'm hoping you will be able to read her signals."

Rachel had been planning to do just that, anyway, so she bounced with the thought of it also being a mission from a _teacher_. She looked at her best friends to see their answers. Brittany was watching her girlfriend intently. Rachel was pretty sure that either way Santana decided, Britt would still say yes, but Britt also cared about San's state-of-mind. The latina was glaring off into the distance. When she realized all three other occupants of the room were staring at her, she snapped, "Duh! Quinn may be a stone cold bitch, but she's _my_ stone cold bitch. Forever and always."

Brittany squealed and flung her arms around Santana. Rachel beamed, then turned and gave Ms. Pillsbury a sharp nod. "We would absolutely love to, Ms. Pillsbury."

Blinded slightly by Rachel's brilliant show smile, Ms. P only smiled back.

...

Quinn's day hadn't gotten any better. Because her father had been gone for the night, he came home without having to go to work and he was at the house when Quinn got there. He'd wanted an enthusiastic welcome home. Quinn had decided to get it over sooner rather than later, and got down on her knees with her backpack still on. She'd spent ten minutes after rinsing and re-rinsing her mouth out, Listerine and water alternating. It was humiliating, completely degrading, but it was one of the quicker ways to get her dad off her back. She tried to ignore the tears that pricked her eyes as she rinsed, choosing to blame it on the intense mint of her mouthwash.

She was not about to cry a second time today.

She went to her room and closed the door, knowing it was ineffectual against keeping her dad out of her room but still a small amount of comfort. Almost as soon as Quinn sat down there was a buzzing from her phone. Quinn flinched, debating whether to answer. Only one person texted her, and she wasn't really feeling up to dealing with the diva anymore today. Then the phone buzzed again and Quinn groaned and unlocked her phone.

**_Quinn I am very sorry to have upset you today, but I feel that what I said was true._**

**_I just wanted to make sure that you weren't terribly mad at me, and let you know that I've scheduled with Santana and Brittany to use tomorrow's study hall for our project. We all have the same study hall._**

Quinn felt anxiety fill her gut at the thought of having to spend a whole extra period with Santana and Brittany, but she and Rachel hadn't gotten much work done on the project on Monday. This would make up for that, hopefully. Quinn wasn't about to get anything short of an A.

_I'm not mad, it was unexpected that's all. Study hall sounds good._

The response was instantaneous.

**_Oh good, I'm glad to hear it! I have some notes that I thought we could go over with S and B, we got a bit of work done on Monday despite everything._**

Quinn felt a tug of guilt at the reminder she'd thrown Rachel out because of her own paranoia issues. Sure, it was fairly probable that Rachel did in fact want to sleep with her because of her reputation and the curse of her looks, but Rachel also seemed… not quite as beastly as others tended to be.

And hey, maybe her attitude and punk look was keeping Rachel at bay, like it was intended to.

_Cool. I'll be there._

**_Wanna meet at your locker? Which is it?_**

Quinn raised an eyebrow, not really sure why they couldn't just meet at the library.

_I don't really use my locker._

**_Oh, alright, well my locker number is 443, meet there?_**

_Sure. See you tomorrow._

Quinn turned off her phone before she could get any more texts, thoroughly done with human interaction for as long as she could put it off.

* * *

><p><strong>I've been noticing a lot of anger toward Santana in the reviews, and while it's fairly justified because she's extremely stubborn and venomous, I'd just like to mention that when Quinn cut off friendship with B and S, Santana was only 14. At fourteen, being cut off from a friend can feel like being ripped in two. Santana, who works very hard to <em>not<em> have feelings, internalized that hurt as powerful anger. She's not the healthiest person, but her stubbornness can be her best _and _worst trait_.  
><em>**


	8. Chapter 8

**Earlier update than normal, thank you for your continued support.**

The thing of it was, Quinn knew about abuse. She'd had to sit through health classes, she'd seen after-school-specials on television. She wasn't _unaware_, like a little kid who thought this was just normal daddy-daughter interaction. Maybe when she was 8, it hadn't been the first thing to come to mind. But at sixteen, Quinn Fabray was well aware of what child abuse was. She even knew that there was probably some brainwashing in there somewhere, to a degree, but she wasn't sure what was true and what was false, and stripping down _everything that she knew_ seemed like a useless endeavor. It was just far too _late_ for Quinn. She was already tainted, and nothing she did would fix it, and trying to get out of the situation would only make everything worse. Her dad was a pillar of the community, he'd get her back in seconds, and that would threaten her college fund, her _chance_ at a future.

Once she'd even been watching some show on television, Summerland or something, where a kid was being abused, and she'd frozen up on the couch. She'd looked over at her dad, who was reading the paper, and he hadn't even flinched. Quinn had watched her dad for practically the rest of the episode instead of watching the tv, and not a peep. Sure, he didn't hit her, but- and her younger self had eventually switched off the television and gone up to her room.

And that night had been the same as all the rest.

Quinn hadn't told anyone to begin with because it had just been her life, then it had been because of shame.

Eventually it had just been to late to do anything, and it made more sense to just bear it until college, get her tuition and graduate with top grades, and then never see her father ever again.

.

Quinn was still uncertain why Rachel wanted Quinn to meet her at her locker, but she'd agreed to do it. She hadn't agreed to be right on time though, so she was walking the near-empty halls toward Rachel's locker a few minutes into the period. She saw Miles Brody down the hall and flipped him off, rounding the corner and freezing in surprise.

Rachel Berry stood waiting, with Santana and Brittany in tow. Rachel was looking down at her phone every few seconds. Next to her Santana was inwardly fuming. Quinn could practically see the steam rising off her. The only one who seemed unbothered was Brittany, who beamed when she noticed Quinn's approach and moved in to give Quinn a quick hug.

"Way to keep us waiting," Santana snapped, but there was less fire behind it that Quinn would normally expect and she raised an eyebrow in reply.

"What are you all doing here?"

"Waiting for you, silly!" Rachel said, sidling up to Quinn and linking her arms with hers. Quinn immediately disentangled.

"Too strong, Rach," Santana said with a snort, elbowing Rachel lightly in the ribs. "We thought you'd show up sooner than you did, so we could all head over to the library together."

"But… why?" Quinn asked warily. She looked around. Was this some kind of trick?

"Because we wanted to make sure you were okay, but we didn't want to be too obvious about it so we agreed that this one period would be a good start," Brittany explained. Rachel gave Brittany a sharp look and Santana sighed and smacked her forehead.

"Make sure- Why wouldn't I be okay?" Quinn asked, her defenses going up.

"What Brittany means is, now that we know there are bullies around and you and your friends are targets, we were hoping we could spend some time walking the halls with you, so that people know you're our friend and stop picking on you," Rachel hurried to reply.

Quinn relaxed slightly even as her annoyance kicked into overdrive. Was Rachel _still_ on that? "You don't have to worry about me, Rachel, or drag these two along with you."

"We weren't dragged!" Brittany protested, frowning slightly at the implication. "We wanted to make sure you were okay, too."

Quinn softened a little and gave Britt a small smile. "Alright, maybe not you. But Santana over here-"

"Came of her own free will, thank you very much. Do you really think I'd be here if I didn't want to be?" Santana put her hands on her hips and pouted.

Quinn blinked, heat of alarm running up her neck. "Since when- What does that mean?"

"Don't read into it too much, Fabray, or you'll hurt your pretty little head. It is what it is."

Quinn felt like the floor had dropped from under her, like she was spinning in space. Brittany wanting to be friendly was one thing, but Santana's venom had made it easier for Quinn to keep her distance through this project. Now Santana was acting practically… nice. She couldn't _do_ that, it would mess up everything Quinn had worked for. She took a step back, feeling like glass was breaking in her chest, and Brittany took a concerned step forward, arms outstretched-

_-"I bet Brittany looks great in this."-_

"Well I don't want you here, Lopez, so just back the fuck off," Quinn snarled, causing Santana's eyes to narrow and Brittany to quail in her approach.

Rachel's eyes went wide with concern, unprepared for the extreme negative response from Quinn. Something about Santana and Brittany set Quinn off. Rachel put a hand discreetly on Santana's arm, trying to placate the now seething latina, and she said, "Well, we're here, so let's just go to the library and work."

Quinn nodded sharply and turned on her heel, marching back toward the corner she'd rounded to get to Rachel's locker and outstripping the other three girls quickly.

As Quinn turned the corner, she had just enough time to partially close her eyes as red slushie was thrown into her face and Miles Brody started to howl with laughter.

Quinn's eyes were slammed shut and she missed the unfolding off the next events, though she heard a wildcat cry and felt two sets of hands grab her on either side, as if afraid she'd fall. Quinn reflexively struggled against the hold on her, points of panic bouncing around her head, but Rachel's melodic voice was on her right saying that they were there to help and she slowly stilled. Risking even more stinging to her eyes, she opened them only just, and she saw Santana pinning Brody to the hall floor and landing punch after punch on his face and chest.

Rachel said something to Brittany and Brittany let go of Quinn, going to pull her girlfriend off the hapless boy. Santana was still shrieking abuse and screaming intermittently in Spanish, saying what Quinn thought might have been something about bad things happening in Santana's neighborhood. Brittany easily picked her girlfriend up, even as the enraged Santana still kicked at Brody's prone body.

"We're going to the bathroom," Rachel called over her shoulder at her two best friends as she steered Quinn away. The stinging was too much and Quinn reluctantly closed her eyes and let Rachel guide her through the halls. She hated feeling so _helpless_, but if anyone was going to walk her through the halls blind and not let her get injured it was single-minded Berry.

Quinn heard the familiar creak of the swinging bathroom doors, and Rachel's grip on Quinn disappeared, leaving Quinn reaching for her in frustration before a paper towel was pushed into her hand. Quinn quickly used it to clear her eyes, then when enough was out of her eyes she opened them and beelined to the sink to clear them further.

"Wait, Quinn, I can help you," Rachel said quickly. Quinn looked at her doubtfully, but then Rachel had vanished out the bathroom door. Unsure of what to do, Quinn waited, and within thirty seconds Rachel was back with a plastic chair stolen from some classroom down the hall. She put it against the sink, motioning for Quinn to sit. "Just like a hair salon, you'll lean back and I'll wash it out of your hair."

Quinn stood back, biting on her lips as she eyed Rachel for signs of deceit. All Quinn saw was Rachel's open, bright face as she turned on the faucet, letting the water run over her fingers to get it to a good temperature.

"…fine," Quinn whispered, sitting down and leaning her head back.

Rachel's fingers were soft as they started working their way through Quinn's hair, working the warm water through with expert strokes. Quinn closed her eyes, gripping the sides of the chair until her knuckles turned white, and when the water splashed into her eyes she jerked. Rachel's hand rested on her forehead to push her back down, and sheer panic coursed through Quinn as she lost track of where she was. She jerked up again, her forehead colliding with the metal faucet, and she twisted and half-tumbled out of the chair, landing on her knees and surging to her feet, spinning wildly.

"Quinn!" Rachel yelled in alarm, her hand reaching towards Quinn. "What's wrong?"

Blinded momentarily by fear, forgetting where she was and whom she was with, Quinn's hand lashed out. Only at the last second did her hand uncurl from a fist, suddenly aware that it wasn't her dad standing in front of her, and instead of punching Rachel she slapped her hard across the face, hard enough that Rachel staggered. When she stood back up, cradling her cheek, Quinn looked on in horror as the realization of what she'd done sank in.

"I am so sorry," Quinn gasped out, hating herself with every fiber of her being. "I- I didn't mean- I just-" But she couldn't explain that she'd been somewhere else entirely, that she now took showers every day because when she'd tried to go full Skank and not bathe her dad had held her underwater in the bath and she'd thought she was going to drown. How she couldn't get her hair washed at the salon anymore, either.

Rachel looked so scared of her, and Quinn wilted, sagging against a nearby sink and closing her eyes. "I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it," Quinn started to repeat, to herself as much as to Rachel, because she couldn't be this person, a monster, what her dad had made of her. And she hadn't meant it, not to hit Rachel, who had been nothing but nice to her when by all rights Rachel should be horrible to her in return.

"Quinn," Rachel said softly, and Quinn opened her eyes. Rachel had a moist paper towel against her cheek, and there was a pinkness bleeding into the paper.

"Oh god," Quinn croaked with dread. "I hurt you." Saying it out loud meant that it was true, and Quinn felt tears grow in her eyes.

Rachel took the towel away and Quinn could see the little scratch under Rachel's left eye, from where Quinn's nail must have caught. She turned to the mirror and examined it critically, then said, "It's- well, no, it's _not_ okay. But I recognize that it was not _intentional_, that something else made you react that way, and I accept your apology. I can actually appreciate the drama of a good slap, though it was undeserved." She turned back to Quinn and put on a small, sincere smile. "I forgive you, Quinn, so please don't beat yourself up. Are _you_ okay? You seemed-" Rachel trailed off, clearly uncertain of what Quinn had seemed. Mortally terrified, which didn't make any sense.

"I- I'm-" Quinn stopped, took a shakey breath. "I don't like water in my face like that. Can- Can we try something else?"

"Okay…" Rachel said uncertainly, not at all pleased with the answer but fearful that pushing would make Quinn even more erratic. "Why don't we try with your face down? You'll still get water but it won't be so much falling onto your face as dripping?"

Quinn breathed out heavily, considering. Her father had held her in the water face up, and she hadn't been able to get a good grip on anything to pull herself out. Face down, while terrifying in it's own way, would allow her the leverage of using her arms to thrust herself upward if she wanted to. Quinn nodded. "Let's try that… please?"

Rachel nodded and Quinn went back to the sink, moving the chair out of the way. Rachel handed her a paper towel, folded in thirds, and said, "Put this over your eyes so the water that runs into your face won't be so bad." Quinn quietly complied, bending down into the basin. The back of her right hand and her nose were both touching the sink bottom, it was that shallow, but Quinn was able to duck her head under and only have the faucet grazing the top of her head. Dimly she realized that her forehead was throbbing and remembered she'd smacked it against the metal faucet in her quest to escape. She'd have to check it later.

Rachel resumed her gentle washing, nimble fingers getting all the sticky liquid out of her hair easily. She turned off the water and grabbed some towels, drying Quinn's hair some before she let the other girl out of the sink. "There. Now about your clothing-"

"I have a spare outfit in my backpack," Quinn said softly, looking down at the ground. She still felt absolutely sick with guilt. How could she have slapped Rachel? Caused her to _bleed_? She was such a deplorable human. Not even human at all.

"Quinn, please look at me."

After a long moment Quinn looked up. Rachel very carefully and slowly moved her hand forward, and when Quinn didn't flinch away she put it on Quinn's arm and squeezed. "I'm alright. It was an accident, and you didn't mean to hurt me."

Quinn reached up to fiddle with a cross that was no longer around her neck, then let her hand just hover. "Thank you, Rachel," she said softly, meaning it with all she had. Rachel's smile widened and she went to retrieve Quinn's backpack.

"Change in one of the stalls, we can swing by the nurse's before going to the library."

Quinn's face fell and she said, "Right, for your cheek."

Rachel looked confused, then said in shock, "Quinn, haven't you seen your forehead?"

Quinn frowned, wrinkling the skin of her forehead and making her head sting without meaning to. She turned to look in the mirror. A half-moon cut was on the right side of her forehead, halfway between the center of her forehead and her temple. It wasn't bleeding, but a smudge of blood indicated that it had been. Quinn hadn't even noticed, she'd just thought she had a bump.

"Oh," Quinn said slowly, fingers hovering by the wound briefly. "It's okay, we don't have to stop at the nurse's office. I barely noticed it."

"You have to take care of that cut," Rachel scolded.

"So do you," Quinn retorted, glaring a little. What did it matter that she'd hurt herself because she was a moron? She'd hurt Rachel, too, and that hadn't been Rachel's fault at all.

"Fine! We can both get taken care of," Rachel replied stubbornly. They glared at each other for a moment, and then Quinn turned around and stormed into a stall to change. God, Rachel was so hard-headed! She stripped off her jacket, shirt and pants, all three had gotten soaked or at least splashed with slushie. She had a full outfit (including bra if that got too wrecked) in a plastic bag in her backpack. Frustrated with Rachel, wanting to fluster her a bit, Quinn threw her clothes over the top of her stall. She was gratified to hear Rachel let out a squeak of shock, then huff something under her breath. Quinn cackled.

She shook out her wet hair, grabbing some toilet paper and wiping her damp shoulders off before she pulled on her new t-shirt and pants, finishing off with a gray striped sweater and a denim vest. She added her black beanie to keep her head warm, even though it might mean a case of hat hair as her pink hair dried.

When she came back out Rachel started to say something about throwing clothing, but she stopped mid-sentence and blushed. Quinn tugged her beanie self-consciously, not wanting to be reminded just then that Rachel would probably sleep with her if given the chance. Not after Rachel had been so sweet to her and seemed like she wanted to be her _friend_.

Then Rachel stomped her foot and marched up to Quinn, tugging her hat off. "Can't hide your cut from me, Quinn Fabray. You'll get this back after we get a Band-Aid."

Quinn had completely forgotten about her tiny wound, _again_.

"Okay, okay. Let me just," Quinn waved her hands, looking in the mirror and shaking her bangs into her forehead to semi-hide the wound. Rachel pouted and started to protest, but Quinn stopped her before she got too far. "I'm _going_, I'm going. I just don't want to walk through the hallways with an obviously bloody forehead."

Rachel looked uncertain but nodded. She helped Quinn stuff her soiled clothes into her plastic bag. Quinn stuffed it in her backpack and the two exited the bathroom.

Santana and Brittany were standing guard outside the bathroom. Quinn was startled to see it, but she smiled despite herself.

"Rachel, what's on your cheek?" Brittany asked with a frown.

The smile dropped off Quinn's face.

Santana looked between the two girls, and her face became a mask of rage. "Oh hell no, Fabray, you hurt her?!"

Santana started toward her, but Rachel stepped between them, and there was a flurry of Rachel and Santana talking over each other, neither one of them hearing the other. Quinn felt like shrinking into the floor.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, and before the girls could react Quinn was running down the hall and out of sight.

"Quinn, come back!" Rachel called after her, face falling. She stomped her foot and fisted her hands at her sides. "Santana! You scared her off!"

"Well good, she hurt you!" Santana snapped back.

"It was an accident! If you'd taken two seconds before _blowing off the handle_, you'd have know that!" Rachel yelled back.

"Oh yeah, how'd she 'accidentally' hurt you?" Santana drawled sarcastically, but a look of uncertainty had descended on her eyes.

"She- well, I don't really know, she _freaked_ out. I scared her… and I don't know how, but she got so started, she wanted me to get off her and did the only thing she seemed to think possible. She was so frightened, San…"

Santana looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole, but she hid it well. Only Rachel and Brittany could have been able to tell how bad she felt. Rachel's anger dissipated, and she gave Santana a quick hug. "I think that it has something to do with what's wrong- she was so frightened and I didn't know what to do." Rachel was so miserable, she couldn't even articulate it. The look on Quinn's face had nearly broken her heart.

"Can we go find her now, please?" Brittany asked from where she still stood, eyes looking down the hallway where Quinn had fled. "I don't want her to get slushied again, do you think she has more outfits hidden away?"

"That's a good idea, Britt," Rachel said with a nod, and the three girls went after Quinn.

.

Quinn ran out to her safe haven under the bleachers, fleeing from the girls, fleeing from the slushies, fleeing from the reality that she had smacked a girl across the face and was a monster just like her father. She paced in front of the bleachers couch, back and forth, the slap playing over and over in her head. The sound of it, the look on Rachel's face. It was horrible.

Quinn finally sat down, curling into herself with her knees up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. She put her forehead to her knees, ignoring the sting of her cut as it rubbed against denim. She didn't deserve to take care of her own hurts.

"Quinn?"

Quinn peaked out from behind her knees. Rachel stood in front of her, Santana off to side, Brittany vibrating next to Quinn until she couldn't contain herself any longer and sat down next to Quinn, wrapping her arms around the pink-haired girl and petting her head. "It's okay, we know it was a mistake."

"It's not the kind of mistake that I ever wanted to make," Quinn breathed, burying her face against Brittany's shoulder. Letting Brittany cuddle her was such an error in Quinn's judgment, but in that moment it felt so good that she didn't pull away. No one had held her in so long, and Brittany's hugs were the absolute best kind of hugs.

"I'm sorry for going off on you, Q. You know how protective I am of my peeps," Santana apologized without looking at her. Quinn couldn't believe her ears. Santana Lopez was apologizing? In real life? Quinn hadn't thought it possible. And she was apologizing for something that she had every right to be mad at Quinn for. Quinn was protective, too, it was a trait that she and Santana shared, and she knew exactly how she would feel if someone hurt a person she cared about. Blind, uninhibited rage. It was a miracle that San hadn't jumped _Quinn_, too.

"It's okay, Santana, I would have reacted the same way," Quinn said softly.

Rachel sat down next to Quinn and Santana perched on the armrest of the couch. Rachel smiled. "As weird as it may seem, Quinn, friends can forgive each other for the hard stuff. And it's my decision to forgive you. You got it? You're forgiven, whole heartedly, and beating yourself up over it is doing no one any good."

Rachel delicately brushed the bangs out of Quinn's face, revealing the small crescent wound. Santana hissed in sympathy, and pulled her backpack onto her lap. She fished through it for a moment and then pulled out a Band-Aid.

Quinn chuckled before she could stop herself. "Really, San, still?"

"Old habits, Q," Santana said with a smirk, peeling the wrapping off the plaster and gently placing it on Quinn's forehead. Quinn closed her eyes as Santana pushed the adhesive tape so that it would stick, and she remembered what it was like to have friends, to feel wanted. To feel loved.

She didn't deserve it. But she couldn't reject it again, it would tear her to pieces.

Such a weak-willed girl.

Quinn opened her eyes and bit her lip, a 'thank you' trapped on her tongue. Santana just grinned at her. Brittany gave her a peck on the cheek. "There," Brittany said happily. "Now you'll feel better!"

Quinn shook her head but gave Britt a small smile. Santana turned to Rachel, pulling out another Band-Aid to tend to the diva next.

* * *

><p><strong>As someone who hasn't seen Glee season 4-5 episodes without Quinn in them, I have a question. What grade are the new New Directions, such as Kitty, Marley, and the others who I forget? None of them would be featured in this fic, but I'm wondering if mentioning any of them by name would be out of place. I know that at least Unique was in high school when the oldest group were seniors, but was she a frosh or a sophomore? Since this takes place during junior year for Quinn, Rachel and them, if Unique was a freshman in season 3 she wouldn't even be in high school yet.<strong>

**Yes, even if they're not featured I'd like to know the layout of this world. I'm neurotic.**


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter contains discussion of religion (because Quinn obviously)**

"No, nope, definitely not, I change my mind."

"Come on, Quinn! They're _lovely_, I promise you." If Rachel was certain the action wouldn't make Quinn flinch, Rachel would have been tugging on her arm to get her to follow them into the choir room.

"Yeah, okay, they're great, fantastic, I mean wow, but I'm still not going in there."

"Fine, then we'll just bring our friends to your little prude club, right Rach?" Santana snarked, grinning mischievously as Brittany giggled. "We'll miss the first fifteen of glee, no big, and I'm sure the germaphobe will appreciate more company than your mug."

"Her name is Ms. Pillsbury," Quinn snapped.

"Oh, _whatever_."

"Quinn, Santana, enough." The girls kept trying to stare each other down but they quieted. Rachel let out an exasperated sigh. "Though we probably will do that, Quinn. We want our friends to meet you, so they'll know who to look after."

"Again, not a _charity_ case, Berry." Quinn was getting more and more agitated.

"No, but I'd like them to know why we're cracking down, and them meeting you can only help. Trust me, they'll _love_ you."

It was very clear that none of the girls (except possibly Brittany) entirely believed that. Quinn scowled to hide how self-conscious this was all making her feel. Quinn knew she wasn't the most warm and fuzzy person, even before the pink hair, and it had never been the greatest of feats for her to keep people at arms length. Not even her teachers had warmed to her much when she was younger, even being the student with the best scores. It was just part of who she _was_. An unlikeable, cold girl whose only good attribute was her looks and her-

Quinn kicked a locker nearby, startling the other the girls, but Quinn didn't notice as it distracted her enough to re-orient her thoughts in the right direction. The point being, Rachel Berry's friends were not going to love Quinn.

But she also wasn't about to let members of the glee club invade her safe space.

"Lead the way," Quinn said with a sigh, and Rachel beamed as she pushed open the choir room door. Quinn followed, hoping this would be over with quickly so she could go to her own club.

Only about half the club was already assembled, including, of course, Rachel's closest friends. When Rachel and Santana and Britt had taken over the club, it had already been most of the way through freshman year, so they hadn't done any competitions or even found the required 12 member lineup for participation. They'd spent their first semester in glee club figuring out each others strong suits, and had managed to rope four football players into the club, Finn, Puck, Mike and Matt. The club had only taken shape the very beginning of sophomore year, when the sign-up sheet had been put on the bulletin board and Mercedes, Kurt and new freshmen Artie and Tina had signed up. It had been just the eleven of them for a month, and they'd bonded in that time. They'd finally put on a production to entice their final needed member, and had been inundated with applicants.

Rachel still had a soft spot for her originals, not to mention that some of them had become some of her dearest friends.

Kurt and Mercedes snapped to attention when they noticed who accompanied Rachel, San and Britt. The mysterious pink-haired girl, looking uncomfortable and defensive. It had only been yesterday, after all, that they'd found out that the girl had broken Ritter's nose for assaulting a girl in the hallway. "Rach sure works fast," Mercedes whispered to her best friend, who nodded in agreement.

"Hello, everyone, I'd like you all to meet Quinn Fabray," Rachel announced, gesturing to the spot next to her to try and move Quinn front and center. Quinn didn't budge and Rachel let her hands fall.

Brittany bounced to the rescue. "Q is super awesome, you guys, even if she has resting bitch-face."

Puck couldn't hold in a snort. Quinn raised an eyebrow and gave him her best ice queen impersonation, but Puck just looked back at her coolly.

"I, uh, don't quite understand," Artie ventured, looking at Quinn doubtfully. "Is she… going to join glee club?"

The looks of derision and amusement at the suggestion made Quinn's blood boil with anger and humiliation, but before she could turn to leave a lazy arm draped over her shoulders. When she looked to see who it was, Santana's smug face greeted her. Santana poked Quinn's cheek with a finger. "Aw, is little Quinnie gonna join glee?" Quinn wanted to punch Santana very badly, but she felt a bubble of affection swell in her chest. Santana was doing this deliberately, taking Quinn's anger and redirecting it. It was what Santana did, in lieu of being a shoulder to cry on. She became the shoulder to punch, to make you feel better.

It enabled Quinn to turn and face the New Directions square on and say coldly, "Not on your life."

"Then why are you here," Puck demanded.

"Noah, you apologize this instant or so help me!" Rachel fumed, causing the rest of the New Directions to exchange looks of alarm. Combined with glares from both Santana _and _Brittany, it was enough to make most of them shrink in their seats.

Puck frowned, then looked back at Quinn. "Sorry."

"Quinn is now under the full protection of the glee club umbrella, and as such I expect all of you to look out for her," Rachel informed them all.

"And I'm here to tell you all that this is stupid and you don't have to listen to her," Quinn said, shrugging off Santana's arm.

Rachel shot her a look then turned back to her audience. "As many of you know, I have crusaded to make McKinley a bully-free zone. And I have failed." Ignoring the protests from around the room, most coming from the back row glee flunkies and not the glee club proper, Rachel continued, "It is my new mission to _fix_ this. We owe the students of this school an apology. What good is it to have a school that's only safe for _some_? Make a place where Kurt and Karofsky can come out, but students who aren't part of any club or team are victimized? That's not alright with me!"

There was a chorus of agreement, though to Quinn it sounded more like the kind of agreement a queen bee would receive, drones buzzing in time. But Quinn knew from (admittedly brief) experience that drone buzzes of approval ended up just as powerful as those of people who actually believed.

"I, uh, don't quite follow, Rach," Finn said uncertainly. Quinn wasn't sure she'd ever seen the kid not look confused. "Do you want us to chaperone the loner kids around the school?"

"If that's what it takes!" The calls of agreement were noticeably less.

"How would we find them? Do Skanks even go to class?" Tina asked. There was a smattering of titters around the room.

"I can't believe you all!" Rachel yelled, utterly dumbfounded. "You of all people should know-"

"No, Rach, they don't," Kurt cut in. He gave Tina a scathing look. "They came into this school with the social standings already shifting. They don't know what it's like." He turned back to Rachel. "I, on the other hand, spent nearly a year dodging bullies and ducking slushies, before glee and before things changed. I don't know if your plan will work, but I'll help where I can."

"Me too," Mercedes added. "I never had it as bad as Kurt at school, but I remember feeling alone and unsafe before glee. Not to mention all the other stuff I got going for me, out in the world." She cast a genuine smile Quinn's way. "I got your back, Quinn."

Despite her better judgment, Quinn felt herself warm slightly to the black girl. The other one she was a little more wary of, but you always had to keep one eye on guys anyway.

"Sure, whatever," Puck said, trying to sound nonchalant. "It makes me sick to think guys are picking on girls, that's got to stop." As unbothered as Puck looked Quinn remembered his anger at Ritter. He wasn't as calm about it as he pretended.

"Okay, this is all great, well, bye," Quinn rattled off, side-stepping Santana as she made her escape. Rachel almost called after her, but stopped herself when she thought about the beginning responses to Quinn's presence. She was entitled to the safety of her club, just as Rachel was entitled to her own club's safety net.

"Where's she headin' off to in such a damn hurry?" Mercedes asked as soon as Quinn had vanished.

"Celibacy club, it meets the same time glee does, 3 to 5 every day."

"So what is this really about, Rachel," Kurt said dryly and before he had to suffer Rachel's protests he pressed on, "I don't doubt your justice crusade, not for a second. You forget how well I know you. But you didn't have to bring Quinn in here to tell us all this, you could have just released the hounds. Why did you want us to meet her?"

"So you could put a face to our movement," Rachel answered proudly.

"Nuh uh, not buying it," Kurt replied, leaning back in his chair.

"She wanted us to like her," Puck said with a shrug. "We're her peeps, if she's gonna mack on a girl she wants us to think she's cool."

"Noah!" Rachel shrieked, blushing head to toe.

The whole club started muttering amongst themselves and Santana looked at Rachel as if she'd grown a second head, but Brittany was nodding beside her enthusiastically.

"That's not at all what I intended!"

"Now it makes more sense," Kurt said to Mercedes, who nodded agreement. No one was listening to her.

"She needs _friends_. _We_ can be her friends!" Rachel continued fruitlessly.

"But do we really seem like the kinds of people she wants to be friends with?" Artie asked.

Rachel pouted and opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. There was no argument there. Artie was completely right. But Rachel's actions had _nothing_ to do with being romantically interested in Quinn. Because she _wasn't_.

.

Friday the glee club kids focused on pinpointing their targets, which was easier said than done given the relative anonymity of the kids being bullied. Starting with the Skanks and working outward from anyone they talked to even once, they got a vague foundation, but loners were of course, by definition, not friends with any group of people, including the Skanks. Most of their scouting depended on visual confirmation of alone-ness, and, on one occasion, actual witnessing of a bullying event.

Not able to depend on either the Cheerios or football players _not_ in glee club to help with any protective guard, Santana and Finn had put out the order to leave the loners alone, because clearly the blanket order not to bully was too unclear. Unfortunately, both the Cheerios and football team had shaped up slightly since the regime shift, and the big offenders were going to be on teams that glee had little to no affiliation with, like the hockey team.

And Miles Brody, who had been demoted form second string to locker duty.

Some of their members were more worldly, like the sophomore Sam Evans who was on the swim team as well as glee and football, and the kids who were part of the decathlon team. Unfortunately most of those satellite teams were not the type inclined to bully, and Sam giving a five minute speech with large parts in Na'vi fell on ears that had nothing to do with either side of the problem.

It was frustrating going, especially for someone as driven as Rachel Berry, but there wasn't much more to be done about it except inform Coach Sylvester about the crackdown. Sue had been largely neutral to the whole endeavor, only reminding her manager that any reports of serious bodily injury or sexual assault came straight to her. After some consideration Rachel had gone to Ms. Pillsbury as well, who had been more than thrilled and supplied Rachel with nearly twice as many student names than Rachel had already collected, making Rachel feel foolish for not going to Ms. Pillsbury first thing.

Rachel spent the weekend shuffling between Cheerio manager duties, glee club duties, and making a roster of all the bullied students, pairing glee members with a specific kid if the suspicion was strong enough (for example, both Mike and Artie had been tasked with looking out for young Rigby).

And, of course, every glee club member (but _especially_ Rachel's friends) was tasked with keeping an eye out for Quinn.

Via text messages Rachel collaborated with Quinn on the roster and specific student needs. Or, collaborated might not have been the right word. The process had been like pulling teeth, lots of dismissals and claims that Rachel's planning wouldn't help anyone. Despite Quinn's efforts she was more helpful than she'd intended to be. Quinn was surprisingly observant, and aware of many things that were useful facts and variables for Rachel's chart.

Sunday found Rachel texting her friends their 'assignments', which allowed enough time before Monday morning for questions. There were a few, but Rachel's word was 'law', no matter how her friends teased her.

Monday morning was certainly an adventure.

Rachel, who hadn't assigned herself to anyone because she was going to oversee the whole operation, was witness to a lot of false starts. Many of the students who they were trying to help found it more than a little suspicious to have popular kids shadowing them or trying to strike up a conversation. They had a lot of runners. Students who, because of the skills required to dodge bullies, disappeared for hours on end.

When Rachel informed Quinn of the difficulties, Quinn had just cackled.

But by Wednesday, they had been marginal success, including the win of Rigby being taken under Artie's wing, and Rachel was pleased.

.

"Hey girl, how's it hanging?"

Quinn turned in alarm. Mercedes Jones waved a hand as she caught up with Quinn. Quinn, of course, knew that the New Directions had been ghosting after her since the start of the week, but none except for Rachel, Brittany, and Santana had attempted conversation. Mostly she'd seen them trying to be clandestine, ducking behind corners and into classrooms. Quinn had shaken them once or twice but mostly let them double oh seven her so that she didn't have Rachel stomping after her twenty-four seven.

"Hey…" Quinn mumbled quietly, looking past Mercedes to see if Rachel was forcing her to do this. No sign of the diva, who was one of the worst at sneaky.

"I wanted to ask you, celibacy club?"

Quinn's blood ran cold. Oh no, no _no_, she _couldn't_ want to join. "Yeah, what of it?" Quinn tried to bluster, but it came out a croak.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I just wanted to ask, is it personal or religious? Your celibacy pledge."

The anxiety Quinn felt switched gears as the fear of invasion dissipated and the unease of the new topic settled in. She was the worst kind of hypocrite, claiming to be celibate when the real truth was that she was a disgusting slut. She supposed, technically, she'd never had sex in the biblical sense. "Uh, a bit of both," she replied softly. That wasn't _untrue_. Personal because, well obviously, and religious because her dad had put a good helping of God-fearing into her head.

"That's cool," Mercedes said happily, grinning at Quinn. "So what are you, if you don't mind me asking. Jewish, Christian?"

"Christian… Catholic, to be exact," Quinn replied.

Mercedes' smile only got wider. "Jesus fan, rock on! I'm Baptist, myself, but I figure we're all down with Christ so whatever. Plus, you guys got that mad love for the Virgin Mary, which I think is pretty awesome."

Quinn smiled a little. She did like the Virgin Mary. Her relationship with religion was complicated, to say the least, but that was due to her father and not much the meaning behind the words. There were certain passages, no matter how beautiful, that she'd never be able to read again after what her dad had done to her or made her do while reciting, but there were many more that had no such bad connotations, and they filled her with some peace. Jesus and his friends weren't vicious and hateful, like her dad wanted her to believe.

_God_, on the other hand…

The truth was that Quinn just wasn't _sure_, and she'd stopped wearing her cross because she didn't want it defiled any more than it already had been, but when she'd been confirmed in the church it had been one of the only times in her life she'd felt whole and clean.

It hadn't lasted, but it was something.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry for the rambling, but most of my friends aren't religious, and Rachel is Jewish. My best friend Kurt doesn't believe in God, which is kind of a bummer. I don't get to talk about this stuff much."

"Me either. I… don't really go to church much anymore." That had been a point of contention with her father, but in the end her dad had decided bringing his pink-haired daughter to church wasn't an option, and he told all the church parishioners that Quinn was always at home studying. Which was true. Russell always brought her report card to church with him the weekend after he got it.

"Girl, you should come to my church! Everyone's welcome! Even crazy dye-jobs." Mercedes laughed. The black girl was being very familiar with Quinn for a stranger, and it was a bit uncomfortable, but the offer was almost nice.

"Thanks, but I don't really think it would be a good idea," Quinn said. Part of the reason she'd stopped going to her own church was the increasing fear that upon crossing the threshold she'd simply burst into flame for being that sinful.

"Mkay, but the offers there. Come on, let's get you to class," Mercedes said cheerfully, nudging Quinn gently along.

Quinn didn't even bother telling Mercedes that she had planned on skipping and walked with her.

.

"Quinn, I am formally inviting you over to my house," Rachel announced without preamble at the start of Spanish.

Quinn blinked slowly, then said, "Do we need more project time? I thought we were doing pretty well on our study hall sessions."

"Not for school, Quinn, for fun!"

Quinn didn't know immediately how to respond. It had been years since she'd been invited to someone else's house, let alone invited for _fun_. "And that'd be… okay?"

"Of course, silly!" Rachel backtracked a little when Quinn scowled. "I mean, yes, it's more than alright. I'd love to have you over, and my dads are dying to meet you."

Right. Rachel had dads. The plural of dad. The plural of father. Quinn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Rachel's home life was probably vastly different from her own but the idea of meeting Rachel's fathers still filled her with all kinds of apprehension. Irrational, absolutely, but persistent. Gay didn't mean frigid and since girls were only good for one thing…

Quinn felt nauseous. She bent over slightly in her seat. Distantly she heard Rachel asking if she was alright, and then a tender hand started rubbing her back rhythmically, and she looked up. Rachel's expression was one of deep concern. Quinn felt a rush of hatred for her.

"Get your hands off me. Right. Now." Quinn growled, her expression lethal.

Rachel withdrew her hand, placing both of them behind her back to indicate she was keeping to herself. She didn't outright apologize because she wasn't sure what she would be apologizing for, but the intent was clear on Rachel's face.

"Don't ever touch me again without my permission, Berry," Quinn hissed.

"Understood," Rachel quickly agreed, feeling now that she knew what had happened. "I do apologize, Quinn. I'm a touchy sort of person, and I forget my boundaries. That's no excuse, however, and I will do my utmost to guarantee that I don't overstep again. If I do you have absolute justification to be angry with me, and I will accept that with grace."

Quinn grumbled as she looked down at her desk, hiding where her hands were shaking. "Did you know you use about ten sentences to get across what three words would do?"

"I have been told I tend to be especially verbose. Santana says it's because I like the sound of my own voice, but I think I do it because it comforts me," Rachel said with a shy smile. "Spelling myself out clearly leaves less room for people to misunderstand me."

"It's really annoying," Quinn said to her desk. She idly hoped that continuing to be mean to Rachel would get the invitation to the Berry house withdrawn. That, and being a nasty bitch gave Quinn a lot of hiding space.

Rachel furrowed her brow and after a moment she said, "Well, it's too bad you find it annoying, but I'm afraid that's who I am. I'm sure we'll find a middle ground in our friendship that both of us are comfortable with."

"I don't _want_ to find a middle ground, I want you to shut your yap every once in a goddamn while," Quinn replied. She was mortified to find that the anger was leaving her voice and she was just starting to sound drained.

"I can see that you're not in the best of moods, so I'll be going back to my seat now," Rachel said shortly, holding her head high. Of course she wanted to be Quinn's friend, but standing around to get insulted wasn't always a necessary part of her attempt at tolerance, and as they moved further into the relationship Rachel was going to be less and less permissive of it. Still, before she left she said clearly, "The offer still stands, and my weekend is free. I can get you home at any time, and even pick you up if you need a lift. Just text me your answer."

Quinn responded with a glare.

.

On the way to glee club Rachel got a text.

_I need to be home by 5:30 to get dinner started. Don't make any grand plans that go longer than 5. I can get myself to and from your house._

Rachel smiled triumphantly and typed back a reply.

**_That sounds perfect, Quinn. How early can you come by? And would Saturday or Sunday work best for you?_**

_Saturday, Sunday's church. If I'm not at church I gotta study._

**_Alright then! Time? My dads and I will make lunch._**

_Ugh, all vegan?_

**_I'll turn you yet._**

_Haha. Unlikely._

**_Time?_**

_I can come over at 11. If that's too early 12 works._

**_11 is great! We can talk about it more tomorrow in class!_**

_Do we really need to talk about it more than this conversation._

**_Of COURSE, I have to know what your taste in musicals is!_**

_See you tomorrow, Rachel._

Rachel skipped into glee.

* * *

><p><strong>Ahhh and we come to this, the confusing status of Glee Club. Is it a class? Is it just a club? Is it every day after school? If it's every day when is Celibacy Club or God Squad, both of which Rachel, Quinn and others have been shown attending as well as glee. In this fic, glee is just a club, Mon-Fri, 3-5. Celibacy club is also Mon-Fri, 3-5. Quinn wouldn't join glee, it conflicts with her downtime with Ms. P.<strong>

**And as for the religion part, I do hope brief talk of religion doesn't turn anyone off the fic. Christianity is pretty important to Quinn, and also I love Mercedes and Quinn's friendship and one way I thought they could bond was through that. The topic will come up again so please tell me if you'd like me to keep warning for it.**

**Thank you for the answers about the later glee kiddos. I probably would have mentioned Kitty if I mentioned anyone at all. **


	10. Chapter 10

"I invited Quinn over to my house," Rachel announced happily when she saw Santana and Brittany in glee club.

Brittany squealed with joy and jumped up to give Rachel a hug and a loud smack of a kiss on the edge of her lips, missing most of her cheek completely.

"Hey, hey, uh uh," Santana said sharply, snapping her fingers to get the two girls' attention. Rachel leaned back from Brittany, smiling sheepishly, but Brittany was largely undaunted.

"Sorry San, I just got super duper excited and needed to give Rach a kiss. It's the best news ever!"

Rachel laughed as she sat down with Brittany. "It's great news, and she said yes just now, but I don't know if I'd call it the best news ever."

"No, it so is!" Brittany gushed, and when Rachel still looked doubtful Brittany said, "Quinn's favoritist ever thing is being invited over to people's houses. Well, besides reading. But then she can read at other people's houses and that's, like, everything together."

"It's her favorite thing?" Rachel asked uncertainly. Santana shrugged but Brittany nodded enthusiastically.

"Yup! I think it's cuz she doesn't like her house."

Rachel was very confused by this declaration. Quinn's house was a _mansion_. Sure, it was kind of… off. But it probably had its own theater and library. "Why wouldn't she like her own house?"

"Because her daddy's mean," Brittany whispered.

Here, Santana nodded agreement. "Straight up asshole."

"Mean…?" Rachel asked anxiously. That was a very troubling thing to say.

"Mhmm," Brittany hummed, and her face grew long with sadness. "When we met Quinn she was all mean and confused about _everything_. She used really bad words. About black people, about Asian people, about gay people. I think she even knew bad words about Spanish people but she never used them around San. San had to yell at her a lot to get her to stop, but I don't think she even got it before that boy called San a bad word and she got so angry she could have _exploded_. That's when she _really_ really stopped. But her daddy didn't, and that time we went over to her house all the hate and sad hung all over like ghosts of feelings."

"I kind of thought her dad got to her, when she first cut us off," Santana said sullenly, hate rolling off her in waves. "Like he'd brought her hate all back again. But then she went Skank, and that's _so_ not a Mr. Fabray thing, so her cutting us off was all her. I think." Santana sighed, rubbing her temples. "Fuck if I know. What I _do_ know is that dad of hers is mad toxic with his bigotry and shittiness. We don't like Papa Fabray, it's a rule."

"Only don't tell Q because she gets all uncomfortable and bails," Britt added.

Rachel was quiet as she absorbed this new information. She remembered Quinn's strict time rules when Rachel had gone over to her house for the project and realized that Quinn had been making sure she was out of the house before her dad got home. "So I take it he wouldn't be a fan of a Jewish girl with two dads."

"I can think of at least ten words I heard Quinn once say that her dad would use to describe you," Santana confirmed with a snort. Rachel pursed her lips.

"Oh, but don't worry Rach!" Brittany rushed to assure Rachel. "Quinn _likes_ you, she'd never say so but she'd also never say those bad words about you. Quinn isn't her daddy. She's about a million, _billion_ times better."

Being a million billion times better than a racist bigot like Mr. Fabray wasn't _entirely_ an accomplishment, but Rachel could appreciate and even marvel at Quinn coming out of that household even an inch as nice as she was. Sure, Quinn tried her best to be mean, and she really could be, but she could also be soft and vulnerable and kind. And Quinn was _always_ funny and smart and beautiful. Rachel wondered how someone as amazing as Quinn could come out of that environment. Poor Quinn… she must have had a miserable childhood. And, it occurred to Rachel, a miserable present, since she had given up her friends and chances to go to others houses. Why would she do that?

"Why didn't she ask to come over to mine when I suggested we work together outside of school? If she likes other houses so much?"

"Well… did you invite her?" Brittany asked curiously.

Rachel tried to remember the conversation. It felt so long ago even if it had only been a few weeks. Finally she shook her head. "No, I guess I didn't."

"She probably thought she wasn't invited," Brittany said simply.

"Yeah, Rach, first time I invited her to mine she asked if it was 'really ok' about twenty times," Santana said, using air quotes. She lowered her head, scowling slightly. "Don't think she'd been invited over before."

Rachel felt immediately horrible. She should have invited Quinn over that day! Then she wouldn't have even needed to snoop, she wouldn't have been thrown out for being forward, they could have had an incredible time! She'd been exaggerating, slightly, when she'd told Quinn her dads were dying to meet her, but she'd asked her dads and they _had _said yes, if a bit hesitantly. Rachel probably shouldn't have told her dads about finding out that Quinn had been the instigator of the Month of Torment. She'd gone home every night crying then. She should have known her dads hadn't forgotten.

Surely she would have eventually found out about the incident with Phillip Ritter some _other_ way besides going over to Kurt's in a dramatic tizzy.

But when would she have mentioned Quinn to Kurt and Mercedes if not for then? She wouldn't have found out about Phillip from anyone _but_ them. And she wouldn't have introduced Quinn the way she had if _not_ for knowing… her bully brigade wouldn't have been formed in the time it had been, kids would still be in danger.

It was all a domino effect. Everything happening the way it had led to this very moment. Rachel wouldn't have wanted things to go on the way they had.

Still, Rachel wished with all her heart that she'd have been able to make Quinn happier _sooner_. Made Quinn's life better in some way, more than she already might have.

"Will you tell her pretty please that she's _always_ welcome to come over to my house," Brittany pleaded, clasping her hands in front of her and sticking out her lower lip. "Bebe misses seeing Quinn. She _loved_ Quinn." It hadn't even occurred to Rachel that Brittany's little sister Beatrice had known Quinn, too. So many puzzle pieces, and a life that San and Britt had shared with Quinn that Rachel knew nothing about. It almost made her jealous, but only in the sense that Rachel wished she could have been there, too.

"I'll tell her, Britt," Rachel promised.

Brittany danced in her seat excitedly. "Yay!"

Rachel looked at Santana with expectation. "What about you, San? Should I tell Quinn she's invited to yours as well?"

Santana shrugged. "Doubt she'd wanna come over."

"You are so stubborn, San!" Brittany grumbled, or as close to a grumble as Brittany could achieve. "You know Quinn loves Mami Maribel, and Mami asked about all the _time_ before."

"Yeah, well, she's still got some fucked-up issue with me!" Santana countered, throwing up her arms in exasperation. "Some issue with _both_ of us! And I don't have any fuckin' clue what it is. I doubt she'll be coming over for a pajama party."

Brittany's face fell and Rachel put an arm around her in comfort, glaring at Santana. The gesture didn't really stop it from being _true_. Quinn got agitated around them. "She talks to us now," Brittany tried to argue.

"She talks to us and it looks like it physically pains her. She avoids us most of the time, _still_. Did you know fucking Queen Latifah over there had a full goddamn conversation with Q and I've barely had three sentences exchanged with the girl? It's _annoying _and it ain't like I chase after people!" Santana deflated a little. "Not anymore."

"Do you… want me to ask her what happened?" Rachel asked, biting her lip. She planned on asking anyway, but their permission would make Rachel feel less like she was going behind their backs.

"Yes please!" Brittany replied quickly, even as Santana shook her head.

"She ain't gonna tell you shit, R. Her walls will go up and you'll be lucky to see the girl's backside around the school as she runs off."

Rachel's first thought was why did Santana assume Rachel wanted to see Quinn's backside and she blushed when she realized that hadn't been at all what Santana meant. "Like I said before, Santana, maybe there's enough distance from it for her to be willing to talk. I am a neutral party."

Santana cackled at that. "You can't possibly think you're 'neutral', _mija. _You're the least neutral person about anything ever. And if I know _anything_ about Fabray, it's that she could keep her lips sealed being tortured by the KGB. I have never met anyone more secretive than ice queen Quinn and that includes me when I was in the closet."

Rachel sighed. That definitely seemed true. And if Quinn had been that tight lipped at twelve, an age notorious for loose lips, at sixteen Quinn could be like a fortress to crack.

"Could you still try, Rach?" Brittany asked quietly, hope lacing her voice.

"Of course, Britt."

Brittany brightened, and beside her Santana just sighed.

.

Ultimately, while Quinn _hated_ the idea of meeting Rachel's plural dads and eating rabbit food, Quinn changed her mind for the chance of hours spent out of her house _not_ alone at the library as well as the possibility that the rabbit food would actually taste good. The Berry's were gay, and gay guys were good at all that domestic stuff, right? Was that a stereotype? Quinn wasn't sure but if it was it seemed like an awfully nice stereotype, and Quinn hoped it was true either way. Quinn made a lot of the meals at home. It was expected of her, now that she was the only woman in the house. Before Judy left she'd taught her a few things about domestic bliss, and after Judy left Frannie had been in charge for a while. Despite how much Frannie loathed her little sister, she'd given Quinn the tools to take care of their dad after she went to college.

It was good that Quinn _liked_ to cook. Cooking was calming, but making every meal outside of school lunches was a bit exhausting. And could get especially boring, since Russell liked routine and they had about ten types of dinners they alternated between. Breakfast was even more limited. Usually some combination of eggs and bacon/sausage and pancakes. Something new would be interesting. And it might even give her some ideas. Unless it was foreign food, her dad wouldn't eat anything he didn't consider "American".

Quinn couldn't really imagine _enjoying_ food without a meat base, but maybe the Berrys were magical cooks.

Rachel bombarded Quinn with questions about her taste in musicals on Friday. Quinn didn't have any answers, because she'd never really given musicals much consideration. Rachel decided to try for a variety, starting with Funny Girl. Quinn had never heard of it. Rachel had been personally offended.

Quinn told her dad she was going to the library, which hadn't surprised him since she spent most Saturdays out. Russell spent most of his Saturdays playing golf or going to the country club, so he never missed her or anything. But he expected dinner when he got home, no matter if he showed at 6 on the dot or 8:30.

And it might be cool, going over to a… "friend's" house again, after all this time. Days at Santana's during middle school had been some of the best days of her life. She'd never seen a whole lot of Santana's dad (which was a blessing considering Quinn's relationship with fathers), but Maribel Lopez had been amazing. The kind of mother Quinn had always wanted. The Lopez house had been Quinn's favorite place for a long time. Brittany's house came after the public library, if only because Brittany's dad was around a lot and that added a level of unease that made it harder for Quinn to relax.

Two dads though… that didn't really bode well for relaxation.

.

Quinn arrived at exactly 11. Punctuality was important in the Fabray household. It was bad etiquette to arrive too early or too late. And the 'too' in that statement meant _any_ amount of time before or after the indicated time. Die her hair pink and wear all leather and Quinn was still her father's daughter.

Rachel flung open the door before the doorbell had finished its toll. Rachel grabbed her hand and pulled her in. "I'm so glad you could make it!" Rachel babbled, leading her through the small foyer and past the living room into her kitchen. As they walked Quinn looked around. The Berry house was nothing short of beautiful. Warm and bright, pictures of all three Berrys plastering every surface. Every corner radiated love. It made Quinn's skin itch.

Mr… and Mr. Berry were in the kitchen. They both smiled upon seeing Quinn, but Quinn could tell instantly they weren't as happy to see her as they wanted their daughter to think. Quinn's stomach churned and she unfocused her eyes to stare past them as Rachel introduced them. What had they heard? Did they know she was Russell Fabray's spawn, _the_ Russell Fabray? Did they know she'd bullied Rachel, however briefly? Or was it how she looked?

Or maybe, all of the above.

"-but you can call them by their first names because it gets confusing and all my friends do," Rachel finished, pushing Quinn forward a little to greet the Berry men. Both men appraised her with critical eyes even as they smiled their brightest. The one with spectacles finally extended his hand. "Hiram Berry," he said, his name dragging out of his throat with some effort. It was clear he didn't want her using his first name. Quinn took his hand and shook it. The other Mr. Berry took Hiram's place.

"Leroy," he rumbled, and when he shook Quinn's hand he squeezed a little too hard. Quinn didn't make a peep, schooled as she was to keep her mask in place.

"It's nice to meet you," Quinn said softly. "Thank you for allowing me into your lovely home."

Hiram and Leroy exchanged a perplexed look. Clearly she wasn't quite what they'd expected. Quinn kept her gaze on their foreheads as she looked at them to keep from staring into mistrustful eyes.

Rachel finally seemed to pick up on the tension and she stepped forward to place a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Quinn's never tried vegan food! It will be her first time! Daddy, can I ask you to come with me to the pantry, we've run out of Spike."

Leroy followed his daughter, leaving Hiram and Quinn stood awkwardly in the kitchen. As soon as they were tucked away in the pantry, Rachel stomped her foot. "What was _that _about?"

"Honey, I'm just not comfortable having a girl who bullied you in our house."

"That was _years_ ago! I shouldn't have even told you!"

"It doesn't matter how long ago it was, Rachel! She hurt my baby girl."

"Daddy," Rachel said, looking to see if Quinn was nearby as she lowered her voice. "That's not _her_. I don't think it ever was. I didn't want to- to _worry_ you, but Quinn is Russell Fabray's daughter."

"I'm aware," Leroy replied coldly. Leroy Berry wasn't one to judge people by their parents, but if the apple didn't fall far from the tree…

"No, daddy, _listen_. She's Russell Fabray's daughter, and I didn't know what that meant until recently. She has to work twice as hard not to be like him, and she does it! She stopped a bully herself!"

"Yes, by _punching_ him," Leroy argued.

"Daddy! You told me once that children living in houses where hate is preached are _brainwashed_. That it's no better than mental abuse! Does that not apply to a girl who hurt me _once_ and has since become my friend?"

Leroy quailed, looking chagrined. He'd forgotten, in his outrage for his daughter, that being brainwashed into intolerance _was_ a form of abuse. Filling children with _hatred_, against their wills, it was nothing short of evil. Evil disguised as parenting.

Leroy knew Russell Fabray, knew how root-deep malignant the man was.

Quinn Fabray had never stood a chance.

Maybe it was time she was given one.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Leroy apologized sincerely, feeling a spike of pride that his good-hearted daughter had called him out. "I'll be better, I promise."

"Thank you Daddy," Rachel said, flinging her arms around her father. Daddy had been the one she'd had to talk to. Dad was a pushover. Dollars to sugar-free donuts he had already softened to Quinn while they were gone.

And sure enough, when Rachel and Leroy returned Hiram was explaining the vegan vegetable stir fry to a fascinated Quinn. He showed her the pan as Quinn looked on, explaining enthusiastically about cooking time, temperature, and oils. Rachel smiled, she hadn't known Quinn liked to cook. So did Rachel! She'd inherited the love from her Dad.

The lunch went amazingly well considering the rocky start. Quinn, who was still visibly anxious, eased into cooking talk with Hiram, and then book talk with both of her fathers. Quinn was exceptionally well read, naming books and essays that Rachel had never heard of. Reading was, as far as Rachel could tell, Quinn's one true love. Just like singing was Rachel's. It made sense, Rachel privately thought, because reading was a tried and true form of escapism. It made sense that Quinn was able to shake off a lot of her father's teachings if she was reading things left and right that contradicted him.

Hiram was easily won over by Quinn, who had clearly learned a lot about etiquette and charm in her house. When Hiram commented on her manners, she explained that her mom had thought that manners were important. It surprised Rachel to hear about Quinn's mom. She had just assumed that Mrs. Fabray had died early on, there weren't any pictures of her in Quinn's room. Rachel really didn't know anything about Quinn. Every time she was reminded of this, Rachel felt uncomfortable. Asking was rude, and possibly something younger Rachel would have done. Young Rachel had struggled with tact. Hanging out with Santana and Brittany and becoming more used to engaging with people had only improved Rachel's social skills, but it also prevented her from finding out information that she once would have tried to pry out of people.

After lunch, Rachel took Quinn down into the Berrys renovated basement, complete with small stage and mic stands. "It's for Rachel Berry performances, whether planned or impromptu," Rachel said with a laugh. Quinn just smiled, still shy. Rachel sat Quinn down in a chair and walked over to her CD player, turning it on and making sure it was on the first track. "Now, I'm going to explain the plot of Wicked to you, using the soundtrack!" Quinn had to laugh. This is what Rachel had planned for their afternoon? It was… sweet. Completely dorky.

"Now, Wicked is one of the best musicals of all time, unfortunately it hasn't been made into any sort of movie that I can more easily show you. After this we can watch Funny Girl, but because Wicked is _that_ important, I have to do it this way," Rachel explained matter-of-factly.

"Usually, I play Elphaba and Brittany plays Glinda, or she does so long as I can get her to focus, but it generally falls apart around Popular because Brittany gets too excited and tries to kiss me and Santana, who refuses to play any role, will get angry and storm onto the stage which is very unprofessional. I've _tried_ to explain to Brittany that Glinda and Elphie are just friends but Brittany says that isn't true. To be fair the subtext says they could be more, but they never act on it within the actual play and Elphaba is in love with Fiyero, but Brittany doesn't care. Santana got extremely mad at me the first time we did Wicked and I had to explain all this to her." Rachel smiled when she noticed Quinn doubled over in laughter. "Either way it's really fun, and we've done in three times since freshman year, but we've never gotten through it. This time I definitely will as a solo act, even though I'll have to play all the characters!"

"You realize I have no idea what any of those names mean, Berry," Quinn said, face still tinted pink with laughter.

"All in due time, my dear," Rachel bubbled enthusiastically, and she turned on the Wicked soundtrack.

Rachel narrated explanations as the soundtrack played, jumping into character whenever any of the main characters started to sing, jumping around the stage in absolute ecstasy. Quinn leaned back and watched, a small smile on her face the whole time. Rachel Berry was made for the stage. She never missed a beat and her face was flushed with the joy of the story. Quinn found herself drawn into it even though she'd never known anything about it beforehand, growing fond of Elphaba the Wicked Witch and G(a)linda the Good. During the last song, Rachel started crying on the stage with the emotion of it, and Quinn felt a tugging of sadness as the story ended. Rachel breathed hard as she came back out of the story, looking down at the stage, then just as quickly her head was back up and she was beaming.

"Did you like it?" Rachel asked hopefully, still panting a little and glistening with a sheen of sweat. Quinn felt herself blush at the sight. She was truly something.

"It was good. I might have to find some of those songs."

"Defying Gravity," Rachel said, nodding sagely.

Quinn laughed. "Yes, that. Also the last one between Elphaba and Glinda."

"For Good!" Rachel gushed.

Quinn nodded. "Some of the others, too, I think."

"I'm so glad you liked it!" Rachel exclaimed, jumping off the stage and closing the distance between them. "It's incredible."

"Mmmm," Quinn hummed, eyes crinkled with amusement. "Did you say there was a book?"

"Yes!" Rachel confirmed. "I must warn you they're vastly different, but the book is fantastic. Much more serious, more adult in content."

"I'll have to get it from the library, then." Quinn stood, running her fingers through her hair.

Rachel grinned. "That's great! Did you have a favorite?"

Quinn smiled a little. "Elphaba."

Rachel nodded, not surprised in the slightest. It occurred to her, Quinn and Elphie had a lot in common. It was shocking, really, because with that realization came the thought that, while Rachel always thought of herself as the Elphaba of her story, in the current situation she was pretty clearly the Glinda to Quinn's Elphaba.

It was sort of a jarring thought, because it made Rachel's position in her life come into question.

Brittany would tell them to just kiss.

Rachel banished the thought, and she took Quinn's hand to lead her back up to the Berry living room to watch Funny Girl.

* * *

><p><strong>That fanfiction downtime was such a motivation killer, especially since I'd been having trouble with this chapter already. I'm not exactly "stuck", but what's happening is that I know what happens in a few chapters time, and this is more or less "filler" that is coming to me just as I write it.<strong>

**Next chapter should be more Quinn bonding with other glee members (specifically some of the boys). Thank you as always for your reviews, they mean so much to me and really keep me going!**


	11. Chapter 11

On Monday, Quinn was in a terrible mood. Saturday had been great… but Sunday had been comparibly awful. She had bruises on her neck from her dad's fingers from where he'd held her in place, and bruises on her arm to match. She'd had to use a bunch of concealer for her neck. The concealer didn't help the aches, and she was sore and angry as she walked the halls.

"Hi."

Quinn turned with an uncompromising scowl. The Asian boy from Rachel's glee club had jogged up behind her. A few unkind words passed through her head, but she shooed them off. She may be cursed to be a goddamn slut but she wasn't going to be a racist, too. She still wasn't happy to see the boy, however, and she didn't even know the boy's name.

The boy just smiled easily back at her. "I'm here to walk you to class."

"You pulled Fabray duty, I take it," Quinn snapped, turning to walk off before he could answer.

"Yup," he replied, taking long strides to pull up at her side.

"Sucks for you," Quinn bit out, trying to pick up her pace to get away.

"Not really," the boy said, keeping pace.

Quinn huffed and the two walked in silence down the busy hallway. For a glee clubber, he wasn't as talky as Quinn had expected. He was a guy, so he was immediately suspicious, but he was neither trying to spy on her from behind corners nor trying to force conversation. All he did was walk with her. She almost wanted to ask his name, but that would be inviting him to talk if he was actively holding himself back.

They finally got to Quinn's AP US History class and Quinn shrugged. "Well, this is me."

"I know. I'm in this class, too," the boy said with a grin.

Quinn blushed. She hadn't known that. She barely came to class and didn't pay attention to her classmates. She only popped in for tests and the AP practice tests to gage her preparedness for the real deal. "Oh."

"It's okay, I spend most of the class in a haze, too," the boy teased, nodding into the classroom. Quinn smiled slightly, entering the class with Mike on her heels.

"I'm Mike, by the way," he introduced himself, holding out a hand.

"Quinn…"

"Nice to meet you, Quinn," Mike said as they shook hands.

Quinn stayed in class, sitting next to Mike and allowing herself to exchange funny faces with him as class went on.

At the end of class Mike bowed gracefully at the door, making Quinn roll her eyes. "Enchanté," Mike said, doing a playful gig as he left. Quinn chuckled.

"Yeah, he's kind of a ham once you get to know him," a voice from behind her said.

Quinn's walls slammed back into place as she turned, her face shifting from mildly amused to her trademark blank ice queen. Noah Puckerman leaned against the lockers watching Quinn expectantly. Quinn glared at Puck, who was easily one of her least favorite of the New Direction members even factoring in the Ritter smackdown. He was just _abrasive_ and rude. And he clearly judged her for the way she'd handled the Mack/Ritter scenario. He thought that somehow she could have done more. But he was a guy, and he didn't understand that you got in a lucky punch and pegged it, if you were smaller and weaker than your foe. Quinn wasn't _like_ Puck. She didn't have muscles, she didn't have weight or height. She just had anger.

"I'm not doing this with you, I don't care if Rachel tried to get you to follow me around. Go away." Quinn started to walk away, heading in the direction of the exit doors and her bleachers.

"Hey, wait up!" Puck called after her. Quinn shook her head and kept walking. She heard a grumble from behind her. "What's your problem?"

"My problem is that we don't even like each other, so we shouldn't have to be forced to endure each other's presence.

"What makes you think that I don't like you?"

"Uh, everything about you? It's pretty clear."

"Well, you're one to talk, you don't like being around _anybody_."

"Then let's keep our distance and it all works out."

"You know, you're not like the other Skanks," Puck called after her. Quinn slowed, turning back a little to look at him.

"What does _that_ mean?"

"I mean, you're angry and annoying and dress the way they do, yeah sure, but you aren't really one of them. Like, I've spent time with Mack, we've slept together and everything, and I just don't get that read off you."

Quinn felt like punching him in the face. So he'd realized she didn't fit in with the girls, she didn't fit in _anywhere_, but he didn't have to point it out. "Screw you." She started to storm off again.

"… hey, yo, what's on your neck?"

Quinn spun around, putting her hand to the back of her neck to cover it. She didn't know what he'd seen, so she wasn't even sure she was covering it. Fucking hell, she had done her best to get the back of the neck, using a hand mirror and her bathroom mirror in tandem to get it all, but maybe she hadn't. Or maybe some foundation had smudged off. Or maybe- maybe it wasn't even the bruises, maybe she'd got marker on her neck somehow and she was overreacting. "What are you talking about?" she demanded, fear spiking her voice.

Puck stared at her then he took a step closer, eyes narrowed and intense. "Is someone at school still messing with you?"

"What? No!" Quinn protested, but Puck was already pacing.

"Fucking assholes! I can't believe them! And after we put out a fucking hit and _all_ and they still ignore us like we're nothing! I'm going to kill those S. O. Bs!"

"It's not happening at _school_, okay!" Quinn hissed, looking up and down the hallway to make sure everyone had gone to classes already and no one else was witnessing Puck's tantrum.

Puck stopped pacing, turning to look at her. He seemed confused, brow furrowed, and he finally asked, "Wait, what'd you say?"

Quinn replayed her outburst and inwardly cursed. She kept her face schooled as she calmly replied, "I just mean, no one at school is hurting me or anything. It's nothing you have to worry about. I burned myself with a curling iron."

"There is no fucking way that's a burn, it's not even the right color, that's a fucking bruise straight up! Don't even fucking lie if you can't come up with anything better!"

Quinn's lips tightened. Puck wasn't as dumb as he looked and considering he was on the football team maybe she shouldn't have tried to fool him about a bruise. "Fine. It's not a burn." She mulled over her options, then said, "It was just a shove, some kid mad about the crackdown at school, it's not a big deal. I bruise way too easy, you could hit me with a ripe peach and I'd be black and blue. Calm the fuck down."

But now Puck looked uncertain, scratching the back of his shaved head and frowning. "So- it _was_ at school? Here?"

"Not a big deal."

Puck shook his head, paced a few more times, and then abruptly he punched a locker. The noise made Quinn jump and she had to take a step back. Puck looked back at her, breathing out, and then after a few seconds he said, "I'm gonna go for a smoke. You wanna come?"

"I don't smoke," Quinn replied, shocked by the offer but able to hide it.

"Yeah, well, you aren't going to class anyway, and neither am I. And I gotta keep an eye on you. So let's blow this popsicle stand."

Quinn snorted at the lame phrasing. She shook her head. "I don't go to class but I don't like leaving campus early. Makes me feel like I'm actually ditching."

"Oh, whatever, Pinkie, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Puck said with a chuckle. "Fine, where would you go?"

Quinn shrugged, not wanting to mention under the bleachers because the Skanks would be there still, probably, and bringing a girl into their space was one thing but bringing a guy was another, especially a guy like Puck. Especially now that she knew that Puck had slept with Mack. God, wasn't there a guy at this school she _hadn't_ slept with? A slow smile crept across her face and she started to walk back the way they had come.

"Hey, where you going?"

"Are you coming or aren't you?" Quinn said with a mischievous laugh.

She led Puck to the roof exit stairs, putting a finger to her lips as they ascended. Quinn pulled out her library card and worked on jimmying the lock. She wasn't great at picking locks, but it was a skill she'd tried to master after getting locked in her room one too many times. The roof access door popped open, and the keypad next to it blinked. If she didn't punch in the right code a silent alarm would sound and make a janitor or security come running. Almost casually she punched in the right code and the pad blinked green.

"Whoa, holy shit, how do you know the code?" Puck whispered loudly behind her.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Quinn said cockily and she held the door open for the boy. The truth wasn't very interesting, really, her short-lived Captain crown had come with a notebook filled with Sue cheats, one of which being the access codes around the school so that Quinn could go wherever she pleased and not get into any trouble. _There's no power without knowledge_, Sue had informed an eager Quinn Fabray. Quinn had turned in her Cheerios uniform, but had kept the notebook for a while before discreetly putting it back into Sue's mailbox. Coach Sylvester hadn't said anything about it.

The sun was harsh on the nearly shade-less rooftop, so Quinn and Puck found a tall air conditioning vent and ducked behind it, Quinn claiming most of the little shadow that it provided. Puck didn't protest, squinting against the sun as they sat down, and he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Will anything happen if I breathe into the vent?" Puck asked, gesturing towards the opening with his slowly burning cigarette. "What if I took out a joint, would everyone in school get a contact high?"

"Don't be stupid," Quinn replied. "And keep far enough away from me that I don't stink after school, I can't go home smelling like tobacco. It's _disgusting_."

Puck shrugged and took a long drag before removing the cigarette from his mouth. Quinn watched him dubiously. "Doesn't Berry ride you about smoking? Isn't she worried you'll ruin your voice?"

"She does," Puck confirmed, taking another drag. After a minute he spoke again. "Look, I'm a footballer and a glee club member. If I was a Cheerio I'd be three for three at this school in 'popular' extracurriculars. Figgins tried to ask me to show some parents around the school who were thinking of moving to our district. _Me_. A Puckerman! I nearly smacked him before remembering that if I did I'd get suspended from glee and sports, and then I nearly smacked myself when I realized that the thought of getting suspended _managed_ to stop me. My bad boy street cred is nearly worthless at this point. I gotta have a vice or two." He waved his cigarette around a little. Then he grumbled, rubbing a hand against his head. "It's probably more symbolic at this point, which is so lame. But at least I can claim something."

"I didn't even want to join the football team, but my mom wanted me to get some of my pent up aggression out and I was banned from the kickboxing team. I'm not interested in the complicated plays, Finn and Beiste get that. They always set me up against the biggest guy on the other team or at least the most tough, so I'm not going crazy out there."

"Whoa. That was such an overshare," Quinn said dryly, smirking.

"You're a bitch, you know that?" Puck said with a laugh. "But I mean, you must know something about pent up aggression. Breaking Ritter's nose."

Quinn's smirk faded. It always came back to that. If she'd known it would cause such a fuss she would have let Ritter do what he wanted.

… no, that wasn't true.

But she sure as shit wouldn't have told Rachel Berry.

"Whatever."

"Seriously though, you must have gotten in a good shot." He took another drag. "I woulda done more, though. I would have broken his arms and legs."

Quinn scoffed with disbelief.

"What, you don't believe I could? I _so_ could, he wouldn't stand a chance." Puck sat up and puffed out his chest proudly.

Quinn shook her head. "I don't doubt that. Just, you wouldn't do that for Mack."

Puck looked honestly confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because she's _The_ _Mack_. She's a Skank. She's slept with most of the guys at this school. You've even slept with her."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up," Puck said harshly, shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge her words. "What are you even saying?"

Quinn shrugged. "I'm saying that its pretty expected, and it isn't like she doesn't have a reputation."

"That's bullshit!" Puck yelled, and Quinn caught the movement as he scooped up a handful of roof gravel in time to flinch and duck behind an arm. The pebbles he threw at her ricocheted off her arm and shoulder and clattered back around her. She yelled angrily, but the yell faded on her lips at the look of pure outrage on his face.

"You think she was asking for it, huh? What the heck is wrong with you? She didn't deserve that! Mack is cool, man, and even if she _wasn't,_ girls aren't just around for guys to paw at!"

"Says the guy doing most of the pawing," Quinn retorted, voice hoarse with contained frustration.

"I would _never_ touch a girl without their permission!" At Quinn's incredulous look Puck swelled bigger with anger. "No, fuck you! Do you think every girl I've asked to sleep with me has slept with me? Do you think I never strike out? Of course I do! And that's fine, I move on! There are plenty of girls who _want_ to sleep with me, I'm not about to go around forcing a girl! And I've been disappointed, sure, there are girls I'd fucking love to bone. But they say no, and that's that. Seriously, that's _all_. 'No' is a fucking _answer_, Fabray, and guys who don't know that are scum!"

Quinn pursed her lips but couldn't hold his gaze and looked away. Slowly she drew her legs against her chest and nestled her head against her knees, angled so that she was looking to the side and not straight at Puckerman.

Puck continued, "Just because Mack's got a rep doesn't mean she has to take _anything._ You've got a rep! Do you think you do?"

Quinn didn't reply, and the silence dragged on. Quinn heard Puck exhale, and then he said quietly, "Jesus, Fabray, you're one fucked up bitch."

Well, he wasn't wrong.

"Come on, Quinn, you can't think like that. Okay?" Quinn moved her head so she could see Puck's face, and he actually looked concerned. It made Quinn want to puke.

"Don't be a dick. It isn't as if people actually care."

Puck looked at her like she was crazy. "Are you kidding me? Do you think Rachel would be doing all this shit if she didn't care? She cares about everyone at this school, but this is _all_ about you."

"She shouldn't," Quinn said softly.

Puck smiled at this. "I don't disagree, but Rachel does that."

"What, chases lost causes?"

"Sees people that think they're lost causes and gets them to know they're not."

Quinn wanted to correct him, but she didn't want him to keep looking at her with such pity.

Puck sighed, then he said, "You know, you aren't the first 'lost cause' she's gone after. Me, Santana, Karofsky, she'll help anyone."

"Santana?" Quinn was immediately alert and lifted her head up again.

"Yeah, end of freshman year and part of sophomore year San was a mess, about being in love with Brittany, you know?" Quinn's eyes widened in surprise. She'd just assumed that Santana had at last come to the realization she was in love with her best friend and asked Brittany out finally. She hadn't known Santana had been stressed about it. Puck nodded. "Yeah, she was really scared. The only thing I've ever seen her scared about. Rachel stuck with her, through tantrums and anger and everything. And when Santana's abuela rejected her after she was brave enough to come out, Santana was miserable. Rachel spent all her time with Santana and helped her out of it. Rachel never gave up on her."

Quinn found herself feeling gratitude towards Rachel, she knew that she would never have been able to do that for Santana. And Brittany… well, Brittany was the _problem_, and Santana would have taken much longer to come around if she'd only had Britt around to help her. Rachel had eased Santana's way, and Quinn was glad.

"I just don't want her to waste her time," Quinn whispered.

"She'll never think you're a waste of time," Puck replied with a shrug.

Quinn didn't say anything back. She uncurled from around herself and looked up at the sky. They'd gotten some cloud cover. Quinn started to strip off her sweater so she could use it as a pillow, wadding it up and tucking it under her and putting her hands between her head and the pile of cloth.

"Whoa, what the fuck?!"

Quinn shot back up, alarmed. Puck was staring at her. When she didn't seem to know what he was reacting to, he pointed to her arm. "You telling me that's from a shove?"

Quinn looked down and her stomach plummeted. A hand shaped bruise decorated her forearm. Quinn had forgotten all about it. She hadn't put makeup on to cover it because she'd planned to keep her sweater on all day and after using half her foundation on her neck it seemed unnecessary. _Unnecessary_ only if she remembered to keep her sweater on. How could she be so stupid? Her dad was getting more careless about hurting her, so she needed to be _more_ vigilant.

Puck was still staring at her, and his face had taken on a steely quality. She glared back at him to try to get him to back down but it didn't work. Finally he said, "So, not at school, huh?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Back in the hall, you said you didn't get hurt at school."

"I was lying!"

"No, you lied after." Puck leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, his cigarette dangling forgotten from his fingers. "… I didn't grow up with my dad. He was a total waste of space, and he ditched my mom after my sister was born. I only saw him a couple times after, and I'm glad. He was a drunk, a mean drunk, and one of the only times I saw him after he left he smacked me for scuffing his shoe by accident."

Quinn eyed Puck warily, unsure of where this was going.

Puck put out the dying embers of his cigarette on the gravel floor. He looked back at her and his eyes were soft. "You got a 'mean drunk' dad?"

Quinn's mind was whirling a mile a minute, and she saw her out. "I avoid him," she said gruffly, shrugging one shoulder. "It isn't any big deal, I just stay out of his way. He doesn't _hit_ me, got it?" That at least was true. Quinn's dad never hit her.

Puck nodded and Quinn felt a wave of relief wash over her. If he only thought that her dad shoved her around when he was drunk, Quinn could work with that.

Puck scratched his chin thoughtfully, then stood. "Come on, get up."

"Why?" Quinn asked suspiciously.

"Get up and you'll see."

Hesitantly Quinn stood. Puck fell into a fighting position and Quinn took a step back. Puck took a step toward her. "No, put up your hands, like this." He bobbed his closed fists. Slowly, Quinn obliged.

"I'm gonna teach you how to fight. Just little stuff. In case your dad forgets what he's doing and really tries to hurt you."

Quinn let her hands drop, she was that startled. Puck motioned for her to lift her hands back up again and she did. She'd never learned out to fight before. Sure, she knew how to fight, but it was more wild flailing anger, like Santana had shown her. This was controlled. Proper fighting. Quinn grinned. She wouldn't use it against her dad, but heck, it was good to know.

Puck started to show her some basic things. Halfway through Quinn said, "Don't tell anyone. Don't tell Rachel."

Puck nodded.

* * *

><p><strong>Shorter chapter than normal, sorry about that. I was going to post this yesterday as a Valentine's gift, but then I realized there isn't any Faberry in it, or even secondary Brittana, and I thought it would be weird to upload a chapter with Quinn and Puck fighting ninety percent of the time, so I left it for today. Next chapter isn't going to have much Quinn and Rachel interaction either, unfortunately, but the ending of the chapter should have a little.<strong>

**Also I love Fabang.**


	12. Chapter 12

The two miscreants snuck back down before the bell and Puck deposited Quinn in front of her locker, explaining with arms raised defensively, "Rachel said to bring you here before Spanish, she wants to walk you herself." Quinn's protests that she wasn't a child only made Puck laugh and ask her if she wanted to argue that with Rachel.

Quinn had ended up standing there and waiting.

Before Puck had left her he'd given her his cell number, telling her to call if things got bad at home. She spent the time waiting for Rachel toggling between the Delete conformation and Pucks' number as she kept pressing delete and then cancelling. Puck's was the second student number in her phone. The third overall not counting the Voicemail and Data Usage numbers. It felt like her phone was getting heavier with these additions. Rachel and Puck, the temptation to reach out. It was dangerous letting herself keep the possiblility open. But it was almost a comfort, too.

She also had a Child Helpline pamphlet tucked under her mattress. It was sort of the same principle. It had been there since she was eleven and she'd never called it. Just _had_ it.

Puck would never _really_ answer any call for help, anyway.

Rachel, on the other hand… that was a real risk.

Her cell buzzed and, speak of the devil, Rachel had sent her a text. Quinn opened it.

**_Sorry, can't meet, sent someone else!_**

Quinn glared at the text in the hopes that her anger could be felt over the phone. Sent someone else?! Quinn didn't need anybody at _all_. She started to walk towards class on her own when a panting Finn fucking Hudson jogged up, smiling his weird goofy smile. "Sorry, I'm here!"

"What is this, sic the footballers after Quinn day? You're the third one!"

"Well it wasn't supposed to be me, but Coach Sylvester called Rachel in for an emergency Cheerios thingie, and I was sitting next to her so I got tagged." Finn shrugged a hulking shoulder. Quinn felt a little claustrophobic around the guy. He was so freaking _tall_.

"That's great, but I don't need _you_. Tell Rachel that if she wants to send her Direction dorks after me, I don't _want_ the jock trolls!"

Confusion fell over Finn's face, and _there_ it was, a Finn Hudson easily recognizable. "You don't like jocks?"

"Seeing as jocks tend to be the ones who _assault_ me and mine, no, I _don't_ fucking like them!" Quinn yelled, loud enough that other kids started to turn their way.

"Whoa, that's not fair, not all of us are like that!" Finn protested loudly back, confusion battling it out with anger in his voice. "Those are my friends you're talking about, and you can't just write off a whole group like that!"

Hysterically laughter bubbled at the back of Quinn's throat and she almost put her hands to her lips to hold it in. "I have _absolutely_ earned the right to, with _all_ the shit I've seen go down in these halls! You have _no_ idea!"

"Look, I'm _sorry_ about Ritter and Brody, but it's only _two_ guys, and they're trashbags! We're not all like that."

"It's not _just_ two, you complete ass!" Suddenly Quinn felt her throat start to close and her eyes burn. How could he think that, how could _anyone_- "It's not two, it's _never_ two. Kids get hurt around here _all_ the time, and girls-" Quinn thought of Mack, the look on her face when Quinn had found her. She thought of Rachel in that situation, of Santana.

She pictured her dad on Brittany without even meaning to. Something that had _never_ happened but haunted her as if it had.

You couldn't trust guys, you just _couldn't_.

Finn looked honestly mystified and his anger at her slowly changed course. "More guys? Well, who are they? Tell me, let me at 'em!" He pounded his fist into his palm and Quinn flinched. Actually noticing the reaction, Finn put his hands back down to his sides. "Sorry… but I do mean it! Tell me who, give me names, I'll take care of it!"

"It's not that simple," Quinn said, leaning her back against the lockers and folding her arms.

"Well, why not?" Finn questioned helplessly.

"There are always ones you don't know about. Always- and you can't ever get them all. What if there's some jock footballer slapping around his Cheerios girlfriend, and she isn't telling anyone? Or one of your singers, would you even think twice on it?"

"That's not possible," Finn stammered.

"The statistic for domestic violence against women is one in four. How many of your friends are girls? If you've got eight girl friends, that's two of them." Of course it wasn't quite that way, the numbers could be more or less than that, but explaining statistics to Finn seemed like a wasted effort.

"Two?" The boy asked, all the color draining from his face. "Like Tina? Like Rachel?"

Quinn shrugged. Jeez, the guy looked like he was going to burst into tears. She hadn't really expected that. It occurred to Quinn that Finn Hudson was a child trapped in a teen's body. That could be said for quite a few boys Finn's age, but for Finn it was more apparent. His emotions hummed at the surface, spark of annoyance unleashed as anger, being confronted by a hard truth almost unraveling Finn. She almost felt bad for him. _Almost_. But in the end she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for a boy hearing the truth for the first time.

"I don't understand," Finn muttered.

"Well, that makes two of us," Quinn said hoarsely.

Finn rubbed the back of his neck and shifted from foot to foot in obvious discomfort. "Is there, like, something I can do?" At Quinn's skeptical look he stammered, "I would never hurt a girl, and I've only ever gotten into fist fights with guys who I knew could take me, like Puck. I'm not asking how to not be a bully or a perv. What I mean is, is there anyway I can help? Like- if Rachel ever told me she got hurt- or any girl, or any little kid, what do I do?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes at Finn and snapped, "Well clearly you would go after the culprits with fists flying." She mimed Finn punching his hand with his fist.

"Is that wrong?" Finn asked urgently, his puppy eyes shining. "I really don't know, okay? I'd want to kill anyone who hurt my friends! It seems pretty natural. I guess it's wrong, but punching a person who's hurt someone should be allowed."

"It doesn't help anyone but _you_, you dillhole," Quinn grumbled. At Finn's confused look she sighed. She wasn't sure how to explain this to Finn, and in all honestly it wasn't always true. "Okay, so there are people who would want nothing more than for you to cave in the face of someone who's hurt them. I bet my friend would have gotten a kicker out of seeing Puck punch Ritter in the gut."

"How-"

"It doesn't matter how I know what Puck did. What I'm saying is, Puck didn't do that for her. Not really. He did it for himself, to make himself feel better. My friend wasn't there, she didn't know it was going to happen. It wasn't for her benefit. And if you went after people you knew hurt others, it would be for _yourself_." Quinn smiled a little at Finn's confused face. He wasn't really getting it. "So okay, do it if you want to. If you _know_ it won't come back and bite other people in the ass, like hurting Ritter hurt that little kid Rigby. But if you do it make sure you know it's for _you_ and not for them, for your own satisfaction. As for helping _them_… well, I guess you can just be there. For whatever they need you to do. Make yourself available when you can, and back off when they say so."

"What if they tell me and they tell me not to tell anyone?" Finn asked with worry. "What if I find out by accident, even, and they tell me to keep it a secret?"

Quinn felt a very powerful headache coming on. She massaged her temple with a hand and wished that this conversation was not taking place in any way, shape or form. "I dunno! You listen to them, it's none of your business."

At this Finn frowned and shook his head. "That doesn't sound right. I was more asking if I should tell a teacher or the police or their parents or something… not if I should actually keep it a secret. Because I shouldn't, right? Keep it a secret? That seems like a bad thing to do."

"Well sometimes it's not!" Quinn snapped angrily. "Sometimes, it's the right thing to do so that whoever's dealing with that shit can survive!" Finn quailed at her ferocity.

"… that doesn't really sound like surviving… What if they really got hurt?"

Quinn shook her head. "We should get to class."

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Are you walking me or _not_?"

Finn looked up and down the empty hallway realizing that they were both late to class. "Oh, sorry!" The two started walking.

"You can be mad at all the jocks if you want," Finn said as they walked. Quinn looked at the gigantic boy. He gave her a smile. "I get it, I guess. I mean, I don't, but I get it more. You can be mad at all the jocks, because you can't know which ones suck and which ones don't. The nice ones have to prove they're nice to you more than the mean ones have to prove they're mean. Right?"

"I don't need your permission to be mad at the jocks," Quinn bit out.

"Oh. Right, sorry."

"… but yeah, the nice ones have prove they're nice. Consistently."

Finn grinned lopsidedly at her. "I can do that. I can try anyway. Is that okay?"

Quinn stared at the boy, all dimples and clumsiness and hope. She didn't smile back, kept her mask in place, but she replied, "Yeah, that's okay."

When they got to Mr. Schuester's classroom Finn apologized to his glee coach about keeping Quinn from being on time. A very confused Mr. Schue told Finn not to let it happen again. Finn gave a goofy wave to Quinn as he left.

Santana and Brittany were in class already. This was a surprise to Quinn, because she'd assumed they'd both be at the emergency Cheerios 'thingie' that Finn had mentioned. Apparently only Rachel had been needed, because hers was the only vacant seat in the class. Santana was smirking at Quinn as she went back to her seat, clearly amused by the secret service detail that had been shadowing Quinn for a week now. Brittany cast a beaming smile Quinn's way. God, how Quinn wished Brittany wouldn't smile at her like that.

.

Rachel was surprised to find herself sitting across from Coach Sylvester alone.

She'd gotten the text from Sue to meet her at the end of third period, citing her Cheerios manager duties as the reason. Rachel had been disappointed that she wouldn't be able to meet up with Quinn herself, but Finn had been on hand and she'd asked him to escort Quinn to Spanish just in case. If she had known that neither Santana nor Brittany would be in the meeting with her, she would have just texted one of them. Usually when Rachel was called in for a Cheerios brainstorm she was joined by Cheerios captain Santana and Coach's own personal assistant Becky Jackson. In her time as Cheerios manager she couldn't remember one instance of being alone with Sue in her office. It was a little worrying.

Sue was making a point to draw out the anxiety by blending one of her protein shakes and ignoring Rachel's presence, a tactic Coach used when she wanted to make sure someone was on edge. It was a tactic Rachel had seen many a time, but had rarely if ever been used on Rachel Berry herself. She couldn't figure out what had sparked Coach Sylvester's apparent anger at her. As far as she knew the last thing that Sue Sylvester had been pissed at her about was her handling of the Quinn/Mack/Ritter situation. Coach Sylvester had every right to be angry at her for that particular decision, but Rachel had been under the impression that it had all been resolved and Sue was over it. Perhaps not? Perhaps Coach had called her into her office to give her a more private chastising. Rachel couldn't imagine why Coach Sylvester hadn't done this before, if that were the case, but other than that Rachel had no ideas what this could be about.

Sue Sylvester finally sat down, placing her shake on the desk and folding her arms in front of her. "So, how's tricks, kid?"

Rachel's mouth fell open in surprise. Had Coach Sylvester called her into her office to ask how Rachel was _doing_? "I'm fine, Coach." Sue stayed silent, seemingly waiting for more, and Rachel chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. Was Sue wondering about how her quest to reform the school was going? "My anti-bully crusade is going well consider-"

"I don't really care about that," Sue interrupted. Rachel stopped talking, and the two sat in silence for a few moments again. Coach Sylvester finally sighed and leaned forward. "A little birdie told me that you're helping out Q."

Rachel nodded slowly. "Yes, I thought you knew about-"

"Not the bullying, Berry. Helping her out with other things, on the orders of a certain ginger pygmy elf."

"How did you-"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, Twinkles, but this specific fact only came to my attention recently. I had assumed you were just chasing Fabray around for your own amusement, you can imagine my surprise when I found that a faculty member had put you up to the task."

Rachel frowned, affronted by the implication that her desire to befriend Quinn was anyone's idea _other_ than her own. Ms. Pillsbury's involvement had come well after the fact. It was certainly validating to have the counselor's support, but the choice to be Quinn's friend was Rachel's and Rachel's alone. "I'm sorry, Coach, I believe you might be mistaken by the order of events. Ms. Pillsbury was happy to hear that I had decided _on my own_ to become Quinn's friend."

Sue Sylvester tented her hands in front of her mouth, watching Rachel critically. After a moment she pushed away from her desk and stood up. She walked over to a file cabinet behind her desk. "As you may or may not know, Quinn Fabray was going to be my Cheerios captain in her freshman year. A feat that has not been achieved by anyone else to this day."

"Santana-"

"I chose Lopez after a fashion, that's true. At the time you were not privy to the infighting and cannibalism the Cheerios went through after Quinn abruptly left the position. In truth, I chose Santana as Captain hoping that Quinn would come back to the fold. I knew that Santana would not be as opposed to stepping down. Santana, I believe, had similar thoughts, which is why she accepted. She had no desire to be Captain then. Now she'd claw your eyes out for the position, but not back then." Sue opened the file cabinet and withdrew a file.

Rachel listened with barely concealed interested. In the months before her friendship with Santana and Brittany blossomed and before her position as Cheerios manager was sealed, she had missed upheaval in the Cheerios ranks. She only knew of it in passing and had never known how serious it had been.

"I still think that Fabray quitting the Cheerios was one of the most stupid moves I've ever seen. Still, I find myself interested in her wellbeing, if only from an observer's position in her life. I'll admit that I hadn't noticed how far she'd fallen. That's on me and I am mortified that I could have missed something so obvious."

"Coach, it's not your fault. Quinn- if she doesn't want people to know, they _don't know_."

Sue Sylvester's icy eyes were furious when the turned on Rachel, but Rachel was familiar enough with Coach rage that she knew when it wasn't directed at her. She circled the desk and held out the file. Rachel took it, noticing the label read _Fabray, L. Q_.

"That excuse may work on others, Rachel, but I will not accept it for myself. It's unacceptable that I missed Quinn's spiral so thoroughly."

Rachel opened the file and after a quick glance slammed it shut. "Coach! This is Quinn's school records! I can't look at this!"

"I wasn't showing you her records, Rachel, that's for my use only. Flip to the back."

Warily Rachel did, and found a photo of Sue and Quinn. Young Quinn had her blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail and was wearing a brand new Cheerios uniform. Both Coach and Quinn were smiling into the camera. Sue Sylvester, _smiling_ in a photo.

"She was a Cheerio for a week, and it was one of my favorite and most rewarding weeks of my teaching career," Coach Sylvester said sharply. Rachel looked up at Sue in astonishment. She hadn't ever known Sue to be sentimental… or even fond of any of her girls. Not in the traditional sense.

"I want you to know all this so that you take me seriously when I say that I want to know _what is going on_," Coach Sylvester said, snatching back Quinn's file and moving back behind her desk.

"I- Coach, I had no idea-"

"Of course not, just like you have no idea if I'm fond of you or not. I don't go around broadcasting my feelings, Twinkles," Coach Sylvester dismissed as she sat back down. "Now, tell me, what have you found out?"

"I-" Rachel stopped, unsure of what she should say. It seemed like a terrible breach of privacy to blab to Coach Sylvester about anything she'd learned at all. Sue's raptor eyes never left Rachel so she said, "She was having a really rough time at school… She got slushied when we were walking together to a class. I had to help her clean up, but she had a spare set of clothing just in case so I have to assume it's a fairly common event."

Sue's face turned hard, and she wrote a note down. At Rachel's questioning look, Sue explained, "I'm going to have the cafeteria remove its slushie machine. Go on."

"I invited her over to my house on the weekend. We had a great time. She was uncomfortable at first, but we ended up watching movies and pigging out on the couch until she had to go home, and she even asked me for movie recommendations."

"Boring, that's not what I'm looking for Rachel." Sue put down her pen. "Why did she quit my Cheerios?"

"I don't know, Coach."

"Why is she dressed like the sticky substance on the floor of a Linkin Park concert?"

"I don't know, Coach."

"Unacceptable. I expected better from you, Berry."

"Coach, it's like trying to walk on a frozen lake with tennis shoes. It's slow going."

Sue shook her head. Rachel could feel the disappointment roiling off her. Rachel felt a twang of ineptitude, and she blurted out, "I don't think her home life is good."

Sue went still at this declaration and she looked at Rachel sharply. "What makes you say that?"

Rachel shrank in her seat. She felt extremely guilty for saying anything at all, especially when it was such a liable statement. "Santana said that Quinn was racist and homophobic when they first met. She lives alone with her father, who is reported to be an extremely toxic."

"Russell Fabray," Sue confirmed, opening Quinn's file and looking at it. "I've heard about him."

"She doesn't have any friends, I didn't seen any other pictures of family around the house. She lives in near isolation with her father. It can't be a happy home, Coach."

Sue started to drum her fingers against the desk. "I'm going to have to look more into that."

"Coach- what are you thinking?" Rachel felt unease settle in her gut, the same unease she'd been feeling off and on since getting to know Quinn. She'd never been confronted with the possibility of any friends living in unhappy households before now. Rachel was finding more and more that she was unprepared to deal with it.

"I'll get back to you on that. Now go," Sue gestured toward the door, smirking. "I pulled you out of Schuester's class for the sole purpose of frustrating him, but I suppose you should go learn Spanglish from the gringo."

Knowing a dismissal when she heard one, Rachel left.

.

Class was more than halfway over when Rachel arrived with her slip, giving Mr. Schuester an apologetic smile as she sat down.

Quinn was in class, which meant Finn had brought her to class safely. Rachel giggled to herself picturing giving Finn a treat and a pat on the head. When Quinn saw her she frowned, clearly annoyed that Rachel had sent anyone to walk with her at all. Rachel smiled brightly in response and Quinn rolled her eyes.

After class Rachel walked up to Quinn as she gathered her things. "Hello, I'm so sorry I missed meeting with you."

"You didn't miss anything because I wasn't aware we were supposed to be meeting," Quinn said dryly.

"Well, I'd like to walk with you now, if that's alright. I haven't seen you today and we didn't really text yesterday. I had a lot of fun on Saturday!"

Quinn gave Rachel a disarming smirk, making butterflies flutter around in Rachel's stomach. "Yeah, me too. Look… Can you please back up a little on the armed guard? It's weird."

Rachel's smile dropped a little. She looked down as she said quietly, "I just worry… seeing you after the slushie, I never wanted anything like that to happen again. I want to make sure that this school is _safe_ for you, Quinn." _Because I worry it's the only place you have._

Quinn's eyes widened and she didn't immediately respond. She finished packing up her backpack and Rachel grew worried that Quinn was mad at her, until Quinn said, "Thanks, Rachel… can you only assign certain people to me, though? You, S and B… Puck and Mike are cool, too. And Mercedes. The others- well a lot of them still try and stalk me instead of just walking with me, and it kind of sucks."

"Can do," Rachel replied, relaxing a little. She went over the list in her head and became mildly concerned again. "Was Finn not nice?"

Quinn fiddled with her backpack strap, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Um. No. I guess he was okay. You can send him, too. He used to make me nervous, he's so freakishly tall. But I guess he's just a big puppy."

"The biggest," Rachel confirmed with a laugh, and Quinn grinned.

They two started walking, and then Quinn mischievously mused, "I can't believe you dated that guy."

Rachel blushed bright red and stuttered, "How did you know I dated him?"

Quinn laughed. "Uh, duh, you're Rachel Berry and the gossip of the hour is always about you."

"'Bad girl' Quinn Fabray pays attention to gossip?"

It was Quinn's turn to blush, pale skin turning a pretty shade of pink as she replied, "Oh, shut up!"

Rachel giggled, and soon the girls' joined laughter could be heard singing through the halls.

* * *

><p><strong>I love Sue and Quinn's relationship on the show. It's a bit sporadic, as most Glee relationships are, but I love their later interactions in season 3. Also I'd like to say that there are some versions of Finn that I really do like, so I'm trying to write him as the well-meaning but unaware boy.<strong>

**Also I tried to think of who Finn's closed gal pals were but besides Rachel and Quinn I couldn't actually remember any meaningful conversations he had with any of the other girls, and I absolutely hands down do not count his outing of Santana as a friendly interaction.**


	13. Chapter 13

"So what should our major export be?"

"Can it be corn? I like saying _maize_. Or, oh! What kind of animals can be exports?" Brittany stopped drawing in her own notebook to look up. Rachel's own notebook was open in front of her, neatly taken notes color coded and tabbed. Rachel sat at the head of the library table while Brittany sat on her right, Quinn on her left. Santana sat next to Britt, and the two Cheerios were passing Brittany's notebook back and forth and scribbling sweet nothings to one another, or so Quinn assumed. They kept giggling as they passed between them, whispering in each other's ears and making bedroom eyes at each other. It made Quinn a little uncomfortable, but Rachel was ignoring it easily so it must have been a common occurrence.

Rachel smiled, making a note, "Well, we can look into corn. I don't know how common animal exports are and I'd rather not end up with a country that has an animal trade that could wind up devolving into animal cruelty."

Brittany's head shot back up and she looked upset. "Oh no, I don't want that! Let's keep all our country's animals then."

"Sounds like a plan," Rachel replied cheerfully. Quinn realized that Rachel had said no without saying 'no'. Rachel understood Brittany and understood how to talk to her. Few people could claim that ability. It wasn't that Brittany was dumb. Brittany just thought differently than most. And she was absolutely smart in her own way.

Rachel sighed defeat and stood. "I apologize, I have to use the restroom." She looked truly guilty about having to go.

"Don't apologize, jeez," Quinn grumbled. Santana had scoffed at Rachel's apology, too, and when Quinn and Santana looked at one another they smiled hesitantly.

Rachel hid a grin and pushed in her chair. "Back in a jiff!"

"Oh, yeah, me too!" Brittany said abruptly, rocketing out of her seat and linking her arm with Rachel's. Santana let a protest die on her lips. Quinn heard it and empathized. No way did she want to be stuck alone with Santana, either.

Brittany waved over her shoulder as she and Rachel left. After they were out of earshot, Santana turned to Quinn and exhaled loudly. "You know why she did that."

"She wanted us to be stuck alone together so we could talk," Quinn said simply. Santana nodded. Quinn may not have been friends with Brittany anymore, but she still knew the girl. She knew that Brittany was probably always thinking of ways to get Quinn to talk, and she had grabbed on to the best opportunity. She'd had to wait, of course, for Santana and Quinn to get to the point where they wouldn't rip each other's throats out when left alone together.

They sat in awkward silence, neither girl willing to break it, and both two stubborn to give in first. Finally, Santana couldn't take it anymore, and she blurted out, "So, why'd you quit?"

Quinn flinched, refusing to look at Santana. She knew what this question actually was. An easier, less personal way of asking why she'd stopped being Santana and Brittany's friend. Quinn couldn't explain, obviously, but this was the first time Santana had asked since freshman year. Maybe now that Santana was over their friendship she could give an excuse without the risk of getting murdered.

"It was too much pressure."

Santana snorted loudly in disbelief. Quinn looked up with a glare. Santana was sneering at her, and she shook her head when Quinn finally looked her way. "Bullshit, Fabray. You live off pressure. You're lying, as usual. God, Q, what is with you? We _needed_ you!"

"Did I miss something? Did the Cheerios collapse into chaos and despair and destroy itself after I left? Are there now scarecrow Cheerios? You did _fine_ without me, won competitions and everything, so I don't see how you _needed_ me!" Quinn snarled back, ignoring the fact that Santana might have been saying that she and B needed her and not cheer squad.

"That wasn't me, okay?"

Quinn frowned in confusion. "What?"

Santana scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. "I did okay the first month in charge, but I started to unravel. I'm not a fucking _captain_, not like you could have been. I don't dictate, I fucking pound into place. I don't make rosters and schedules. I was in over my head. Waiting for you."

"… Waiting for me?"

"I was a goddamn place holder, Q! Sue was waiting for you to come back! But you didn't, and- god, I was going insane! Then Rach became my friend. She fucking saved our asses."

"Rachel?" Quinn asked in alarm. "What does Rachel have to do with it? She isn't a Cheerio."

"She's our manager, a position we wouldn't have needed with you in charge." Santana was clearly unhappy to have to broadcast her shortcomings. If it had been a few weeks prior, she _never_ would have admitted any of this to Quinn. But they were trying to be Quinn's friend and Rachel had encouraged Santana to be honest.

"_That's_ why? Not just because she's your bff now?" Quinn was genuinely surprised to learn this. She'd thought the managerial title was mostly honorary.

"Part of the reason she's even my bff now is _because_ of that. Look, I know you were sort of hell-bent on ruining Rach that first week, but it seemed way more personal than just picking a target, so you know I largely stayed out of it. I mean, it got real intense." Santana tapped her pen, thinking. "You know, I never really got that. Sure, Rach was pretty annoying freshman year but there were way easier targets. Look how easy she slingshotted from bottom of the barrel to popularity, it wasn't _all_ me and Britt. Seemed like a bit of a Daddy Fabray move, not the Q I knew-"

"_Drop_ it, Santana," Quinn growled warning. It was not okay for San to dance so close to something Quinn had buried long ago.

Santana arched an eyebrow, then she shrugged and continued, "Anyway, I wouldn't have even given her a second thought after your very successful teardown campaign, but Britt latched onto her pretty soon after you quit Cheerios. Britt invited Rach to one of our weekly sleepovers after they became such fast friends and I went along with it. She was still obnoxious back then, but it had been just me and Britt for a couple of months and I-" Santana bit back the last of her thought, glaring at Quinn. "Rachel came over, saw my mess of a chart for positionings and my extremely detailed plan on how to kill that senior Trisha Campanelli, and she fixed it. Fixed the whole damn chart, as much as she could without seeing us in action and just taking my word. I got her to come to practice the next week, she fixed the rest. Damn near blew Coach's mind."

Santana fiddled with her pen as she said, "Coach has never respected me the way she did you. The way she does Rachel. All three of you, you're planners. I more-"

"Carry a big stick?" Quinn asked, smiling slightly.

"What?"

"It's a quote. 'Speak softly and carry a big stick'. It means you sound nice, but you have a plan to beat people up if you don't get your way. Roughly."

"Oh. Yeah. Except not the speak softly part. That's more you."

Quinn laughed and Santana grinned. "Yeah, I go off, I don't get cold and scary like you. Coach likes planners. People who can see the big picture."

Quinn bit her lip. She hadn't realized. Sure, she'd known her departure would effect the Cheerios, but she'd only been on the team for a week. She hadn't known that Coach Sylvester had waited for her to return. That Sue respected her so much.

"Why did you quit, Q," Santana asked again.

Quinn shook her head. Santana kept _waiting_, kept wanting to understand, and Quinn couldn't make her understand. "I can't-" Quinn said gruffly, then shook her head again.

"Can't? What?" Santana looked more baffled than angry now.

"It was too much- too much time away. Too many trips and- and I wouldn't have the GPA I have now if I was on Cheerios."

Santana glowered, clearly not at all impressed by this excuse. Quinn was feeling trapped, lightheaded, and _god_, this was why she couldn't have friends, everything just went wrong and-

"Hey, you okay, Q?" Santana asked almost gently as she stood and rounded the table. Quinn nodded her head, but Santana looked unconvinced, and she loosely put her arm around Quinn's shoulder. Quinn hiccupped a laugh. The "Unholy Trinity" had always been rather touchy-feely, even with Quinn. She was the least hands on out of the three. But tangled up under a big duvet on Santana's floor it had sometimes been hard to tell where she ended and her best friends began. She missed it. Brittany's cuddles, Santana putting her feet up on Quinn's lap, the three of them squished together on a couch to watch a movie even if there was enough room to spread out. The love and warmth of contact.

If Quinn allowed herself to feel, allowed herself to relax instead of holding herself like a statue of granite, she might have turned and wrapped her arms around Santana's waist, buried her face against Santana's stomach and never let go. If she was anyone but Quinn Fabray, she might have done it.

Instead, she said, "I'm fine, Santana, thank you."

Santana looked down at Quinn with soft, troubled eyes. But she knew when a wall had been put in place around Quinn, so she only sighed and said, "Fine, whatever you say, Fabray."

Quinn felt the return of being addressed as her surname like a slap. But it was no more than she deserved. They were always going to push each other away.

Santana went back to her seat and the two sat in uncomfortable silence until Rachel and Brittany returned.

.

"I was hoping you'd talk more than that," Brittany pouted after Santana told her best friends the conversation.

"Then you should have been the one to try," Santana complained.

"No, that wouldn't have worked," Brittany said plainly. "Quinn expects mad, and she can reply to it. If I come at her with the happiness I feel knowing she's talking to us again, she gets all quiet and twitchy, because she doesn't know how to naturally react to kindness. It always makes her think something else is coming." At Santana and Rachel's stares, Brittany shrugged. "But mad she can do. With mad she can get mad back, and then there's yelling, but she actually says more than two sentences and you get more out of her."

"Wow, you really know her don't you," Rachel mused.

"Of course I do, silly, just like I know you. That's what best friends forever _do_."

"So what do you want me to do, Britt Britt," Santana groused. "She shut me down, like always. I don't know what more you want from me."

"So you don't think the reason she gave you for quitting Cheerios is the truth," Rachel asked again.

"No, Rach, I don't think it's the truth. Q doesn't even go to class and pulls straight As. No way would Cheerios hamper her any more than her own damn self does." Santana sighed and leaned against Brittany. "But I still have no idea what the real reason could be. Cheerleading captain seems right in Mr. Fabray's wheelhouse, he probably _wanted_ her to join. Think she was trying to piss her dad off? Not be picture perfect Q anymore? The Skank thing would make sense, then, but not ditching us…"

"I take it Mr. Fabray didn't like you?"

Santana grinned. "Damn straight! And proud of it. Staying my friend would have been perfect fodder for thumbing her nose at Daddy Dearest."

"He liked me," Brittany said quietly, face scrunched with concentration. A thought seemed to dawn on her and her eyes filled with tears. "Was it me? Was I not bad enough to make her dad mad and she had to break up with us cuz of that?"

"No, Britt, I'm sure that's not it," Santana comforted Brittany, tugging on the blonde's ponytail gently and making Brittany give her a watery smile. "Q knows that I could have been a terror enough for the both of us." Brittany laughed and nodded at that.

"And if Quinn wanted me to be badder, I _so_ can be. I'm the one who stole all the frogs in 7th grade science class. And then all the Bernstein burners because I was already in there."

Both Santana and Rachel laughed. It was true. People often mistook Brittany's bubbliness and joie de vivre for lily-white goodness. Brittany was just as mischievous as her girlfriend, sometimes more because she didn't care as much what people thought about her. Underestimating Brittany was a good way to ensure you'd be blindsided by her in the near future. And once that happened, all you'd get was Santana laughing at your expense, Rachel giving a 'you should have known better' look, and Brittany giving you the most wicked smile.

The name _Unholy_ Trinity hadn't come from nowhere.

Rachel smiled, thinking about little Santana, Brittany and Quinn getting up to all sorts of shenanigans. She was jealous, in a way, but more fascinated than anything. Their friendship was a mirror to her own friendship with Brittany and Santana. Santana and Brittany were good together, _more than_ good, but sometimes they could use a leader, especially in a social situation like high school. Rachel was their leader as Quinn had been before.

Once upon a time Rachel would have been scared that upon befriending them again, Quinn would reclaim her spot and Rachel would be left out in the cold. But she was confident in her friendship with Britt and San, confident in herself. She knew that Brittany and Santana loved her. Adding Quinn back into the fold… well… now Rachel would have someone when Brittany and Santana disappeared on her to go make out in the showers.

And maybe, if Rachel was really lucky, she and Quinn could be as close to each other as Britt and San were.

Without the romantic portion, of course.

.

Quinn had left the three other girls in the library about 5 minutes before the bell rang, socially expended for the day and more than ready to grab her homework from her locker and head over to have celibacy club with Ms. P. Ms. P didn't _count_ as a social interaction, not one that drained Quinn of all her energy, anyway. To Quinn it felt like every person in McKinley was emitting high levels of radiation that she could only take for so long. Even if she liked them well enough, like she did Rachel, she started to feel like collapsing after a while. Ms. P didn't emit radiation like everyone else. If she was sending off anything at all it was a cleansing breeze. Enough to carry Quinn through the rest of her day, before having to deal with her dad and then barricading herself in her room without contact for at least 8 hours.

Interacting with people hadn't always been so exhausting. But the pressure to Be Okay loomed these days, and having to Be Okay was tiring work. Because she wasn't, she wasn't okay. If she really admitted it to herself, Quinn was falling to pieces a little at a time. Or maybe she was already all smashed up and the act of holding herself together at all was like having to generate her own gravitational pull. Keep herself from disintegrating in the school hallway.

With Ms. P she could relax, let her shattered pieces shift around a bit, because all she had to do was eat a PB&J sandwich and talk about books. Heck, even Ms. P's trying to get Quinn to talk about her social life was simple to navigate, because pretty much no matter what Quinn said she was happy to hear about it. Ms. P was easy to please. Quinn saying hello to the school secretary when she came in to drop off her homework had Ms. P grinning ear to ear.

She had to stop by her English teacher's office to ask if she could do the upcoming group project solo. Unfortunately there was another student talking to her, and by the time she was free the last bell had rung and Quinn wasn't as ahead of the pack as she'd hoped to be. Ms. Harris hemmed and hawed over the decision, making Quinn grit her teeth in frustration as she waited, but finally she agreed to let Quinn work alone.

By the time Quinn headed to her locker the halls were mostly clear give or take a few stragglers. She opened her locker and grabbed her homework, then started toward celibacy club.

"Hey, Pinkie!"

Quinn turned, startled. Three jocks were headed her way, definitely not glee goons, and she took a step back. "What?"

"That's you, isn't it? Pinkie? See, Phil _knew_ it was you, when Puck mentioned somebody called Pinkie. You narced, and now our bud is banned from doing anything cool, and there's been some insane crackdown." The boy in the lead swung his fist into his palm a few times, approaching her with a menacing glint in his eye. Quinn put a hand against a locker as she kept backing up, glaring as forcefully as she could. The three boys kept coming. "Isn't that just shitty?" The lead boy continued, shaking his head. "My boy Phil gets in trouble for messing with some _Skank_, and now Rachel fucking Berry is acting like she's fucking Mother Teresa. Pretending she _cares_ about all you wasteos, like you matter. And I figure it's all _your_ fault."

"Oh, and not Ritter's fault for assaulting a girl?" Quinn snapped back, but her voice was quieter than she'd meant it to be. God, was she _scared_? She'd never been cornered quite like this before. None of them had slushies, they came empty handed, which meant they had some other idea of what they were about to do. No one was in the hallways, and celibacy club was clear on the other side of the school. Even if she started running, she wouldn't be able to keep ahead of them for that distance. Running and ducking into an empty classroom would be as good as running herself into a dead end.

And if they herded her into an empty classroom they could close the door behind them. At least in the hallway there was open space.

"The popular kids will get bored of this shit soon, and where do you think _you'll_ be?" The leader said, making Quinn's stomach flip flop. She hadn't thought of that…

He made a grab for her and Quinn did the first thing she could think of: drop into the fighting stance Puck had her practice yesterday and pop him in the chin. Another of his friends came at her and she kicked him in the shin, turned, and ran.

Celibacy club was out, too far. Sue's office? No, that was in the opposite direction. Where could she go, where would she even find people at 3:10 in the afternoon?

An idea struck her and she legged it, the boys hot on her heels.

The choir room door was closed and Quinn pulled up to open the door, getting it an inch open before one of the jocks grabbed her. "Get off me!" She yelled, and through the crack she saw the entire glee club turning her way. The boy let go and she tumbled into the choir room, glaring over her shoulder. The three jocks looked confused to find themselves right outside the choir room.

As one their faces became masks of fear and they turned tail and ran. Quinn turned to see what they were looking at. Puck, Finn, Mike and two other boys she didn't know ran past her, yelling at the boys to stop and explain themselves.

"Quinn, are you okay?" Rachel demanded, already up and out of her seat and hovering by her side, Santana and Brittany right behind her.

"I'm fine." Quinn's voice was a rasp, not just from the running but also from the fear that had fueled her, and she glowered back out the door. "Just some jerks."

Santana started swearing in Spanish and nearly took off after the boys herself before Brittany grabbed her wrist and said to Quinn firmly, "You're safe now, we'll make sure."

And Quinn felt it. Just the smallest feeling of safety, but it was more than she'd felt in a long time. It was thanks to her friends, her dangerous luxury. She looked around, taking a step towards the door. "Yeah, well, I'm heading off to club-"

"You most certainly are not, not until we know the boys got them!" Rachel huffed, and Brittany grabbed Quinn's hand and pulled her further in. Mr. Schuester was standing uncertainly next to a piano, obviously not positive what had just happened, and the rest of the New Directions were whispering amongst themselves. It made Quinn squirm, but then Mercedes raised a hand and waved and she relaxed a fraction of an inch.

Rachel made Quinn sit down next to her, Brittany on her left and Santana sat behind Quinn, still glaring at the door as she waited for her friends to return. Mr. Schue walked towards them.

"Are you alright, Quinn?"

"I'm _fine_," Quinn bit out, self-consciousness making her jumpy. "Just go back to what you were doing."

"What happened? Were those boys bothering you?"

"No, _obviously_ I wanted them chasing me." Quinn sunk further in her seat as the whispers started in earnest around her again.

"Quinn, we have to report this-"

"Just _go back_ to your lesson, Mr. Schue!" Quinn yelled, and the whole room went quiet.

Mr. Schuester started to reply, clearly starting to get angry, but Rachel butt in. "Well, I think Sam was going to perform for us, but he ran off with the others so that's off the table for right now. How about I sing something while we all try to calm down?"

Mr. Schuester looked between the girls, from Rachel's pointed look and protective posture, to Quinn's ducked head and crossed arms, and finally he sighed and nodded. "Alright, Rachel, why don't you take it from here?"

"I always do, Mr. Schue," Rachel said brightly, hopping to her feet and standing next to the piano. She went over to the piano man and band and gave them a song. As if getting a cue, Santana slipped from her seat behind Quinn to the seat Rachel had vacated, so that Quinn still had two people at her side. Quinn noticed this only briefly, because at that moment Rachel Berry started to sing.

* * *

><p><strong>Because I'm the writer and I can do whatever I damn well please, this is the scheduling for Cheerios in case anyone was confused: Practice every morning an hour before school, then practice Mon, Wed, Fri during the last period of school, which is a study hallfree period. The girls have been getting together to work on their projects every Tuesday and Thursday, not every single day.**

**Also any ideas on what Rachel should sing? If I'm not struck with inspiration soon, I'll probably go generic, but any recommendations would be lovely! (remember, this fic takes place in roughly 2011, so no songs after then!)**

**As always, reviews are amazing, they make my day :) And over 100 followers, awesome!  
><strong>


	14. Chapter 14

_"Hello! My name is Rachel Barbra Berry, and I'm going to be on Broadway!"_

_Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana and Santana stuck out her tongue and wrinkled her nose in return, both girls _so completely over_ this stupid freshman introduction that happened every class. They'd already had to do it twice today, same routine, same answer, boring, boring, __**boring**__. That, and the answers were absolutely banal._ I want to be a doctor, oh I want to be a mommy_, gross and stupid answers. Broadway was at least a new one, and Quinn turned in her seat to get a look at the speaker._

_Her eyes widened in shock._

_The girl who had spoken was beautiful. A wide smile broke her face ear-to-ear, chocolate brown eyes sparkling victoriously, straight backed and head held high. Around her people were snickering and whispering, but Quinn could only stare._

_On Quinn's other side, Brittany smiled at her dumbstruck friend._

_What had the girl said her name was? Rebecca? No, Rachel… Rachel Berry._

_Quinn's stomach dropped. She knew that name. Berry was the name of the (__faggot__) homosexual couple that her dad so despised, and she knew they had a daughter Quinn's age._

_Oh no. Was that what was happening? The reason Quinn's stomach was aflutter, why she couldn't stop staring? It was because Rachel was sending off gay vibes, _perve_ vibes, and they were affecting Quinn because she, too, was a perve of the highest order. This was what her dad always talked about. Quinn was naturally sick._

_No, no _way_ was she going to give into her perverted side._

_She was going to squash Rachel Berry under her heels._

_Next to Quinn, Brittany saw the change in Quinn's eyes and her face fell._

_._

_"Come on, Q, we're going to be late for the Cheerios auditions, and that crazy coach is going to hate us off the bat," Santana complained as Quinn dawdled, looking up and down the hall for the troll who had made her face her own sick nature._

_"Wait, just one sec," Quinn said for the tenth time. Santana huffed and leaned against her locker. Brittany was fretting next to Santana, looking from Quinn to Santana. _

_"I want to go to the audition, Q, can't we do whatever you're wanting to do later? Or not at all? That'd be good."_

_"What are you talking about, what do you think I'm going to do?" Quinn questioned harshly, her predator eyes snapping toward her friend. Brittany couldn't know that Quinn was gunning for Rachel, could she? There wouldn't be any way for her to know. Unless Brittany knew she was-_

_No, Brittany didn't. She couldn't._

_Brittany shrugged, staring down at the ground._

_Suddenly Rachel rounded the corner and Quinn pushed away from the lockers and into the middle of the hallway, an evil smirk on her face. Santana's gaze followed Quinn's and she frowned. "Wait, what's going on? Is that the Broadway girl?"_

_Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and started to walk in the opposite direction of Quinn's target, saying, "We'll see you at the auditions, if you're not gonna kiss her I don't want to see it."_

_Quinn felt like Brittany had dumped an ice water bucket over her and distantly she heard Santana question, "What is going on? Do we know that girl?"_

_So obviously Brittany knew, she _knew_ that Quinn was a fucked-up human being. Well, she wasn't __**going**__ to be. She wasn't going to let Rachel the Troll mess up her thoughts any further._

_The girl was just passing by Quinn, and their eyes locked for just a moment. A smile of greeting touched Berry's face, and Quinn felt her stomach flip flop, and before she could think further on it Quinn slapped the books out of Berry's grip and while the girl was disoriented she slid her foot between Berry's, tangling the girl's pace and sending her tumbling to the floor._

_"Watch where you're going, Man Hands," Quinn snarled, and when she saw everyone's gaze turn toward her she lifted her head high, blonde hair swinging as she said clearly, "Better avoid this one, guys, you might catch the gay."_

_Slowly, like a rumble of thunder, laughter spread through the crowd in waves, and soon everyone was laughing as Quinn stood triumphant over a teary-eyed Rachel Berry._

_A group of senior Cheerios at the end of the hallway grinned at Quinn, and with one final smirk at Rachel she walked over to them. "Hi, would you mind showing me to the auditorium," Quinn simpered with a sweet smile. "I'm thinking about trying out for Cheerios, I think you are so awesome."_

_The older girls exchanged looks and nodded, one of the girls even going so far as to put an arm around Quinn's shoulders. Quinn held her head up. She'd sealed the deal. She knew she was good enough to get on the team, but with this she was _part_ of the team._

_The older girl didn't notice as Quinn slipped out from under her arm, walking just a step ahead with a regal stride._

_._

_…_ _What do you say to taking chances,_

_What do you say to jumping off the edge? _

_Never knowing if there's solid ground below_

_Or hand to hold, _

_or hell to pay, _

_What do you say, _

_What do you say? _

_Don't know much about your life _

_And I don't know much about your world_

Rachel finished singing and immediately the glee club started to applaud. Only Quinn sat motionless, her frozen mask hiding the terror under her skin. No. She had not fought and clawed and begged and prayed and cried herself to sleep at night for the chance to be normal to have it all thrown away over a girl with an angel voice. No, not angel, a _siren's _voice, like the mythical sea creatures luring sailors to their deaths. Sirens wanted to see those sailors drown.

Did Rachel want to see Quinn drown?

Well she was out of luck, because that wasn't going to happen.

Next to her she heard Brittany shift, and soon the blonde cheerleader had wrapped both arms around Quinn and was trying to say soothingly in her ear, "No, don't be like that, it's _okay_, Quinn."

It was most definitely _not_ okay!

_But Santana and Brittany are together, they're not filthy sinners._

That was different! _They_ were different. They were normal.

Quinn wasn't normal. She knew now that being gay wasn't the abomination her father had made it out to be. But if Quinn was in the equation it _was_, because _Quinn_ was the abomination, and anything she did would be twisted into some grotesque caricature, dooming her and the other person _both_.

Quinn would ruin them, and she'd go to hell for it.

How dare Rachel do this to her.

"Brittany, let go of me. Right. _Now_."

Brittany's fingers twitched with fear and Santana's gaze snapped around, outrage making her cheeks tint red. But Quinn had to make her tone lethal to get Brittany to let go, or else the girl would cling forever. Quinn _couldn't_ let that happen. Slowly, Brittany let go, face like a kicked kitten when she looked at Quinn.

"Hey, don't talk to my girlfriend like that," Santana growled, looking at once angry and startled. Quinn never talked to Brittany like that. Even when distancing herself, she'd been aloof rather than biting, because being mean to Brittany was hard.

"Then tell your girlfriend not to grab me!" Quinn retorted as she tried to shake off the feeling of guilt at the way Brittany was looking at her. Brittany needed to learn boundaries, especially with Quinn. She shouldn't even be giving Quinn the time of day.

Rachel was still standing front and center but she approached Quinn with an air of caution as Quinn stood. "Quinn, are you alright?" The little diva asked, and _god_, Quinn could punch her for the way she was looking at her. The way that it was taking a concentrated effort for Quinn to not melt looking into Rachel's warm, concerned eyes.

"Good song, I'm leaving."

"I- I sang it for you," Rachel stammered uncertainly, biting her lip. Quinn bristled at the very notion. "To let you know- that we're here for you. If you want us. That you can take a chance and- and let yourself trust us."

"Well, I _don't_ want you," Quinn said, voice cracking. "I don't want _any_ of you." She whipped around as she said this to address all of them. Santana was glaring at her and Brittany was on the verge of tears, but everyone else looked uncomfortable at the conversation, clearly not wanting her around anymore than she wanted to be there. Only Mercedes looked unsettled, and the boy in the wheelchair seemed torn by the whole situation. Quinn felt her breath catch in her throat and her head start to swim. She felt like she was going to be sick and before she could catch herself she wobbled.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, grabbing her under the arm. Quinn tried to shake her off but she felt like her fingers and toes were going numb and it was distressing enough to distract her from trying to get away from Rachel.

Rachel brought her back to the chair she'd vacated and Quinn put her head in her hands, shaking and gasping for air. "I think she's having a panic attack," she heard someone say, then there was a flurry of activity as people rushed to get water, to get a paper bag, and she would have screamed if she was certain she wouldn't throw up if she opened her mouth. Brittany was cooing in her ear and not touching her, which Quinn was grateful for and hated, because she wanted someone to comfort her, to tell her she wasn't dying.

Santana got out of the seat to her right and Rachel sat down, and then it was Rachel rubbing her back, Rachel giving her comfort and telling her she was going to be okay, everything would be okay, and what did _she_ know because nothing was going to be okay, Quinn was seconds away from a slow and agonizing death one way or the other, wasn't she.

The one merciful thing about the whole scenario was that she wasn't _crying_.

Brittany stood up from her place at Quinn's right and Quinn whimpered without meaning to, fingers against her temple moving to reach after Brittany without her hand actually moving. Someone else took Brittany's place, and suddenly Ms. P's gentle voice was saying, "Quinn, can you hear me?"

How had Ms. P ended up here, to watch yet another Quinn Fabray meltdown. She turned her head just slightly, face still buried in her hands, and Ms. P smiled reassuringly at her. "Can you hear me?"

Quinn nodded, still not willing to open her mouth, but Ms. P seemed satisfied. Without Quinn needing to ask, Ms. P nodded towards someone she couldn't see. "Artie came and got me. He was worried about you."

_Who?_ Quinn's eyes lifted towards where Ms. P had indicated. She'd expected to see just the bottom of someone and have to try and decipher who it was by the pants he wore, but she found herself eye to eye with wheelchair boy, who gave her a nervous wave. Him? Why had he cared? What did he want?

"Now, will you take some deep breaths for me?" Ms. P asked. Quinn nodded again, breathing in and exhaling. "A little slower, Quinn. Can you count to 8 while you inhale and 10 while you exhale?"

Quinn nodded a third time then did as Ms. P asked. It was harder to do than Quinn had expected and Quinn had to try a few times to get it right both counts. By the time she was able to she was feeling slightly better.

Rachel kept rubbing her back and humming. It should by all rights make her more upset, but it actually soothed Quinn. More proof that Quinn was fucked up beyond repair.

"How you doing, Quinn?" Ms. P inquired after a few minutes.

"Better," Quinn whispered, finally willing to open her mouth.

"That's good," Ms. P said with a bright smile.

"Sorry for interrupting your glee club twice in 20 minutes," Quinn murmured.

"It's alright, Q, the boys aren't even back yet, I think they're burying the bodies," Brittany replied.

Ms. P's jaw dropped and Mr. Schue looked nervous. "I'm sure that's not what's taking so long."

Quinn snorted a laugh and Brittany beamed at her. She leaned forward then rocked back. "I'm sorry about before, can I hug you now?"

Quinn felt her heart clench. She looked at Santana who was standing beside Brittany, wondering if Santana was going to kill her in the next few minutes. Santana just stared back at her coolly, quirking an eyebrow. When Quinn took too long to answer Santana pursed her lips and jerked her head towards Brittany, who was wilting fast.

"I'm sorry, too, and yes you can hug me," Quinn replied with a wobbly smile. Brittany grinned and rushed forward, scooping Quinn into a hug. For the first time since she'd sat again Quinn was sitting upward, and she rested her chin on Brittany's shoulder and closed her eyes. "I really am sorry, Britt," she said into Brittany's ear.

"That's okay," Brittany whispered back. "I forgot how scared you get. I wish you didn't, but since you do I gotta be more careful about what I do and say. I don't want you to run away again."

There was a long beat as Quinn took Brittany in, the rumbles of talk between the other glee kids like white noise, and finally she said, "I don't really want to either."

"I know," Brittany crooned back contently. "You didn't want to the first time, did you?"

Quinn turned to hide her face against Brittany's neck, and she said as low as she could against Brittany's skin, "No."

"That's sad."

Quinn nodded agreement. It was sad. Sad that she wanted them so badly, that she couldn't just let them be. Sad that she was so selfish.

Brittany leaned back and kissed Quinn's forehead. "I'd totally kiss you on the lips but Santana's _right there_ and she gets mad when I do that even though I don't mean it with you like I do with her. And I don't use my tongue or _anything_."

Santana groaned exasperation; Brittany had been loud enough for her to hear this time. "Britt Britt, we aren't flipping European, we don't kiss lips with just anyone."

"Well we should, it's super nice. And besides, I don't lips kiss just _anyone_, San, just you and Rach and Q. That's _different_, they're our bffs."

"Well you don't see me mackin' on Rach or Q, do you?"

"That's because you being super repressed made physical intimacy with other girls intimidating. Except with Q, because that started when we were just little and everything was still innocent, even your crush on me."

"_Brittany_." Santana was bright red by then and Quinn had to laugh. Rachel beside her did the same, though no one else in the choir room seemed comfortable enough to laugh at Santana for fear of being violently eviscerated.

Brittany smiled her special smile at Rachel and Quinn, a smile only a select few people could illicit from Brittany. "I'm really glad you don't want to run away again, Quinn!"

Quinn looked down at her lap. That didn't mean she _wouldn't_. If she could muster up the strength to do so.

Right then the boys returned, looking more than a little worse for wear. Finn and the blonde boy had the grace to look ashamed, but Puck was preening his feathers like a peacock, and Mike and the black boy seemed to be comparing bruises. Mr. Schuester looked like he wanted to smack his head with his hand and he immediately started laying in on them about how violence was never the answer and that they were just perpetuating the cycle and he should report them to the principal.

"Mr. Schue, that's all usually interesting and relevant, but those boys were going to hurt Quinn," Puck yelled back, and the entire room quieted to hear what he had to say.

"That's _no_ excuse for-"

"Of course it's an excuse! You think jerks like them are going to listen to kumbayas and reason when they practically admitted they were going to rape her just now?"

The whole room froze.

Brittany grabbed Quinn again and held her so hard it started to hurt and Rachel started crying. Santana barreled for the door again, but this time he was intercepted by the black boy, who easily picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her as she screamed and swore and yelled, "Put me _down_, Matt!"

"They- they said that?"

"Well… not in those words," Finn said anxiously, shuffling where he stood. "They said that if Quinn thought what had happened to Mack was bad- And then Puck punched the guy who was talking so hard I think he lost a tooth." Finn looked at Quinn, puppy face long and sorrowful. "That's what they meant, right? And we didn't do anything wrong, if that's what they meant."

Quinn just stared back at him. Puck's words hadn't surprised her, really, but she wasn't sure that was what they had meant. Boys were all bluster. And they definitely would have messed with her, she wasn't entirely throwing the idea of sexual assault off the table, but rape seemed a bit much for them. They were cowards, and rape seemed a bit beyond their capabilities.

Especially on school grounds. What were they gonna do, trap her in a classroom and risk a teacher walking in?

It was sort of making her feel weird how angry this was making all of them. Angry beyond the fact that they were douchebags, like they were actually morally outraged at the idea of her getting hurt that way. What did it matter to them?

Quinn wondered if she'd have felt anything besides annoyance, if three jocks with big hands and big egos had felt her up and run off. Was she capable of mustering more? After her father that seemed a lot like small potatoes. She'd probably have been pissed at herself, more than anything, that she was magnetic and cursed enough to draw that upon herself at school, too. That would be fucking _ridiculous_.

And _so_ like her. It was a wonder it hadn't happened before now.

"We took them to Ms. Sylvester, like Rachel asked," Mike said, and Matt nodded.

"It's not our fault they resisted," Puck added triumphantly.

Mr. Schuester seemed not to know what to do upon hearing this, so he asked all five boys to follow him into his office so they could talk some more.

The glee kids rapidly started talking amongst each other. Matt had set Santana down and she'd wandered back towards Britt, Q, and Rachel, still looking fit to murder. Quinn smiled bemusedly. Such an overreaction. It was sweet and silly. Quinn wanted to say, "Oh, Santana, it doesn't really matter in the long run," but saying something like that would cause a few raised eyebrows and more attention than she wanted.

Rachel had stopped crying, but Brittany was still squeezing Quinn for all she was worth. "Britt, you're breaking me," Quinn wheezed.

Brittany shook her head. "No, I'm not letting go and now we're going to have to be one person so that you never ever get hurt and Santana is just going to have to accept that. And she's going to have to learn how to kiss lips other than mine or else all our sex is going to be so awkward now and I don't want it to be."

"Brittany," Rachel coaxed, and Brittany looked at Rachel with swimming eyes. Rachel put a hand on Brittany's arm. "If you want, all three of us can take turns. Better than before. That way, I'll be there so you and Santana can spend time alone." Brittany shook her head and pouted, moving side to side with Quinn. "Well," Rachel said in the same tone, looking at Santana, "I think having four people be one person sounds much more fun than just two people as one. Don't you?"

Brittany was still pouting, but she sniffled and said, "Four brains for a mega brain."

"Exactly."

Very slowly, Brittany started to let go, and Quinn let out a sigh of relief. But Brittany said sternly, "You have to text me all the time, all the time _always_, so you need my number. And Santana's. And this weekend you can come to Mami Maribel's like before, because it'll make all of us feel better and whole. Okay?"

Quinn looked doubtfully at Santana. Santana looked blind-sided, but seeing Quinn's eyes she shrugged. "Yeah, come over. That's cool."

"I-" Quinn swallowed around the lump in her throat and felt like she was falling.

Rachel smiled beautifully and took her hand.

"…okay."

Quinn was such _shit_.

"Do you and Ms. Pillsbury want to stay for the rest of club?" Rachel asked excitedly. Her eyes danced with such excitement Quinn dreaded to think what they'd look like when she said no. They were still bright from crying, her face still slightly puffy. It made Quinn's heart seize.

"I think Ms. P was expecting-"

"I, personally, would love to stay," Ms. P interrupted. Quinn turned to look at the counselor, feeling only slightly betrayed. Ms. P's smile didn't falter. "While Celibacy Club is my favorite part of the day, I have missed being able to see you all rehearse, and since we're already here."

"But-" Quinn's protest died on her lips and she looked at her lap. What about her PB&J? What about giving Ms. P book recommendations, what about talking about how their days went? Their special, secret stuff. How was Quinn going to face being in a room with thirty plus people and then have to go home and deal with her father, no rest at all?

She very nearly wanted to collapse from exhaustion right _now_.

"Come on, come on, let's sing!" Brittany exclaimed with a bounce.

Quinn chuckled at that. "Britt, I can't sing."

"You liar! We sang all the _time_ to boy bands when we were younger! Did you lose your voice? You can't have!"

_Maybe I did_.

Quinn hadn't sung since her time with Santana and Brittany. And with all that happened- with everything that she kept inside, didn't say, she couldn't imagine singing.

"Please, can we try?"

"I don't even know any songs that you'd know. You're in the glee club, not me."

"How about something old school?" Quinn looked at Santana, surprised the girl would actually put any support into this, let alone try and come up with a song. Santana looked unsure of herself as well, but she continued, "You know, like, Spice World or something."

"Oh, oh! Say You'll Be There, it's _perfect_!" Brittany gushed, and she pulled Quinn out of her seat and towards the center of the room.

"Britt, don't force her." Santana joined her girlfriend, arms crossed over her chest. Rachel stayed seated. When Quinn looked over at her, Rachel gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

"I don't know if I remember."

"Sure you do! Guys!" Brittany addressed the band members. "Say You'll Be There by the Spice Girls, please." She turned to Santana and said seriously, "You can't always be Scary Spice, though, you don't want to get typecast."

"Sweetie, I _am_ Scary Spice."

"You could be Sporty! Or Posh!"

"No one is Posh but Victoria Beckham. They just aren't."

"That's true."

Quinn laughed. They were so _unchanged_, after all this time, and Quinn could see herself slipping them back on like a glove. Easy as anything.

"I'm Scary Spice."

"_Fine_. But I'm not Baby Spice this time, I'm Sporty." She turned to Quinn, all smiles. "Do you want Baby or Ginger."

"Ginger, definitely," Quinn replied. She was actually doing this. She was actually going to _sing_ in a_ glee club_ meeting. The other kids were obviously still reeling from her intrusion and the chaos that had followed, because none of them had stepped forward themselves.

"I'll start!" Brittany announced. "Just jump in whenever, okay?"

Quinn felt suddenly apprehensive. She nodded. What if she messed up, what if she was horrible. What if they all laughed. Fuck them for laughing. But what if they did?

The music started and Brittany began.

_Say you'll be there _

_I'm giving you everything all that joy can bring this I swear _

_Last time that we had this conversation I decided we should be friends _

_Yeah, but now we're going round in circles, _

_tell me will this deja vu never end?_

Brittany looked at Quinn eagerly, but Quinn stood immobile, mouth open but no words coming out.

Santana put an arm around Quinn's waist and stepped in.

_Now you tell me that you've fallen in love, _

_well I never ever thought that would be _

_This time you gotta take it easy throwing far too much emotions at me _

_But any fool can see they're falling, I gotta make you understand_

Brittany and Santana sang together so well, and Quinn would just mess it up. But Santana bumped Quinn's hip with hers and made them sway, and Brittany put her arm around Quinn's shoulder and put her forehead against Quinn's, and Quinn closed her eyes and opened her mouth again.

_I'm giving you everything all that joy can bring this I swear _

_And all that I want from you is a promise you will be there_

_Say you will be there _

_Won't you sing it with me_

The three continued singing, getting into it, smiling, laughing, having the time of their lives.

Quinn never noticed that Rachel was staring at her, mouth agape with wonder.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are love :)<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

"We should ask her to join glee club! She has such a stunning voice," Rachel babbled as Brittany and Santana walked her to her car. She'd been holding in this declaration since Say You'll Be There, through the rest of club, through Brittany and Santana inputting their numbers into Quinn's phone, and through walking Quinn to her car afterward.

"Are you cray cray, shortstack?" Santana demanded. "No way would she join."

"You don't know that," Rachel protested. She looked at Brittany for support. But even incorrigible optimist Brittany looked skeptical. "She was _happy_. You _saw_ it!"

Santana shrugged and Brittany said, "There are plenty of things that make Q happy. She doesn't really do _any_ of them. Except read."

"That's incredibly sad," Rachel said.

"It is what it is, Rach. Q runs as far and as fast as she can from things she can't deal with. Which, as it turns out, is everything."

"I don't think that's true, San. She hasn't run from us."

"Yet," Santana grumbled.

Rachel _hated _to hear Santana's addendum. San acted like it was an inevitability! But it _couldn't_ be. No one could live with such loneliness. Why would Quinn run from them?

Was it her dad? Did Quinn want to please him? If so, why let Santana and Brittany get so close again? Why let Rachel get _at all_ close? Rachel had to be the absolute worst type of friend Quinn could have in her father's eyes.

Maybe that was actually Santana at this point, being a Latina lesbian with a bite to her.

A Jewish bisexual with gay fathers had to be at _least_ a close second.

Not that many people knew of Rachel as a bisexual. She'd only dated Finn, the assumption was straight until proven queer. San and Britt knew, of course, they'd gushed about plenty of female celebrities together. Santana was only interested in girls, but Britt was as bi as someone could get. Even if she found both sexes attractive, Britt only had eyes for Santana.

And Rachel…

Well, after the Finn fiasco she'd thrown herself into her responsibilities, and not a soul had been able to distract her.

Except Quinn.

The strong possibility that Rachel had romantic inclinations towards Quinn Fabray was becoming apparent. She didn't know when it had started, or why, but there it was.

Rachel Barbra Berry had a crush on Quinn Fabray, and now she had to figure out what came next.

Certainly she couldn't act on it, or Quinn would head for the hills. _Best_ case scenario would be what had happened at Quinn's house the day she'd gone over to work on their project. Rachel wanted to be Quinn's friend more than anything else, and she would gladly push all else to the wayside at the chance to find a way to be Quinn's friend. The trouble would be making sure that any hint of her crush never showed.

As a person who wore her heart on her sleeve, that was going to be the rub.

She'd ask her best friends for advice, but Santana would _freak_, and the probability that the news would find its way onto an episode of Fondue for Two ruled out Brittany.

Kurt and Mercedes were out. They were gossip hounds. Same for Tina.

Puck had blurted his (admittedly true) assumptions to the entire glee club, so he was out.

Finn would get stressed, thinking he'd turned her gay.

Artie would tell Tina which led back to her issue.

This was one of those times she wished she was closer to Mike and Matt. Even Sam might be a better option.

No, this was something she'd have to deal with on her own.

Strangely enough, if Rachel had a crush on anyone else, she could picture herself going _first_ to Quinn, over all her other friends. Because Quinn would laugh at her at first, but then she'd listen and give her honest opinion. That was something Rachel loved about Quinn. She pretended not to give a hoot, then proved again and again how much she did. Look how she'd fought for Mack. Look how she'd reacted to accidentally hurting Rachel, at what she put up with for Rachel's state of mind. Quinn clearly hated the vanguard, and complained often, but let it happen so that Rachel wouldn't go insane with worry.

Quinn had stood in front of thirty odd performers and sang, to put a smile on Brittany's face.

Quinn cared. Oh, how she tried to pretend she didn't. But her actions spoke volumes to the kind of person Quinn was. There was no hiding behind an ice-cold stare when you in turn caved in the face of a friend's assailant.

Rachel was sad to think that Quinn might not know what a remarkable person she was, how beautiful and brave and magnificent.

Was it any wonder that Rachel had a crush on such a person?

Maybe people couldn't see past Quinn's very carefully constructed barriers. To Rachel they ripped away like tissue paper. Quinn couldn't hide herself from Rachel that way. Certainly there were things Rachel didn't know, a mystery Rachel couldn't quite solve with observation alone. But the core of Quinn, her wit and her intellect and her big but closed-off heart were as easy for Rachel to see as her outer beauty. No amount of pink hair dye and angry, fear-fuelled words could conceal her like she wanted.

Not when Rachel was looking so hard.

"Rach, you best be coming to mine on Saturday. Keep me from killin' Q."

"You don't want to kill Q!"

"I don't _want_ to, but I _might_."

"Ohhhh." Brittany nodded sagely, as if this made complete sense.

"Of course I'm coming, Santana, I don't want you to kill her, either. I want her to feel comfortable. You three have baggage you should sort through, but not without a mediator. I fear it would go completely off course without a guiding hand." Rachel agreed. What she didn't voice specifically were her suspicions that Quinn would be unwilling to let herself be alone with the two. Britt and Santana triggered some sort of fight or flight instinct in Quinn. Rachel highly doubted she'd last a full night with the two without bolting.

She didn't _need_ to voice this, because Santana already knew and it hurt her to acknowledge. Brittany seemed willfully oblivious. She was certainly perceptive enough to pick up on this fact, but ignoring it seemed like something Britt was doing so that she wouldn't fall into a depression about it.

It was so ludicrous. The three girls clearly _adored_ one another. If only Quinn would explain her actions…

Knowing what Rachel knew about Quinn, two possibilities presented themselves. Nearly every action Quinn had ever taken served one of two purposes: protecting herself, or protecting someone else.

Since there was no fathomable reason that Quinn could be protecting San and Britt, it had to be the former. After all, Quinn was in no way a danger to her friends. Rachel unconsciously touched her cheek, where the scratch from Quinn's slap was already healed and vanished. She couldn't be, right? Both Santana and Brittany had been surprised and outraged by the injury, which would indicate that Quinn had not shown violent tendencies towards them before. They'd only ever mentioned Quinn fighting on their behalf.

Maybe Quinn had felt those tendencies developing and moved away from them because of it?

No, that still felt wrong. If Quinn was truly violent there'd be more indications besides the slap and Ritter's broken nose. Both defensive reactions.

The more likely case was that Quinn was protecting _herself_, which led to more questions. Protecting herself from what? Love? Friendship? It certainly wasn't any sort of preemptive strike, cutting San and Britt out before they could do it first. Santana and Brittany _still_ loved Quinn, after _everything_.

This, of course, brought Rachel uncomfortably back to Quinn's father.

Russell Fabray was a well-known Lima bigot, active in hate groups and political campaigns hell-bent on taking away certain people's basic human rights. Rachel had done her research after her conversation with the girls about Quinn's father. Mr. Fabray was plastered on nearly every possible hate group website that originated in Lima. There were even pictures of a young Quinn on some, the portrait of Aryan beauty. It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to think Russell Fabray had disapproved of Santana. Brittany was one thing, an image of blonde haired, blue eyed perfection. Santana was everything Mr. Fabray despised even _before_ she added lesbian to her résumé. So while Mr. Fabray would accept Brittany, would he continue to put up with Santana? There was no one girl without the other.

Quinn had kept them as friends for three years. Was that too long a time for Russell Fabray?

… what could he have threatened to make Quinn drop not only them, but any semblance of a social life?

The question made Rachel's insides twist.

Was he violent? _Abusive?_ Besides the obvious mental abuse brainwashing.

Did he _hurt_ Quinn?

The question made Rachel feel sick to her stomach.

The truth was that it would explain some things, like Quinn's aversion to touch, the slap, the blemishes that sometimes appeared on Quinn's skin. In retrospect it was an almost _obvious _answer, but one so horrible that Rachel had danced around it to avoid the possibility that someone she cared about could be dealing with something so horrific.

"Do you think-" Rachel began, then stopped. Santana leaned against Rachel's car and looked at Rachel expectantly. Brittany, too, leaned in, clearly waiting for Rachel to continue.

The thought of voicing these ideas, of making them real, was daunting. But if Rachel kept ignoring her fears, was she failing Quinn like so many before? So Rachel summoned her courage and said, "Do you think Quinn's dad hurts her. Physically."

Brittany went white as a sheet. Santana looked at Rachel as if she could kill her, pushing off the car and gathering Brittany in her arms. Rachel recognized that Santana did this for herself, too, so she wouldn't break anything in anger. Rachel also knew that Santana wasn't mad at _her_, not really.

"What the fuck, Rach, where did that come from?"

"It's been weighting on me, San. I tried not to think on it, but that was _selfish_ of me."

"How's that selfish?"

"Not acknowledging my worries because it would make me uncomfortable? Sounds selfish to me!"

Santana frowned, a blush growing on her cheeks. "But- but what if he's _not abusive_. Isn't it a shitty thing to think?" Santana seemed to be asking for the both of them.

"Do you really think Quinn's dad hurts her?" Brittany asked softly.

"I don't know, Britt," Rachel admitted. "It's why I'm asking you. If you've seen anything that might say he did?"

"Like what?" Brittany asked.

"Like… bruises or… maybe she let something slip. Or anything that seemed strange, that made you worry or sad or want to run up and hug Quinn so she'd be okay."

"Quinn always makes me worried and sad and want to hug her."

"Why is that, Brittany?"

Brittany frowned, clearly considering the question. "Quinn is never happy. Only when she's with us. And even then… And sometimes she had bruises but I thought it was from exercise. I get them all the time. She might be so sad because her dad hits her? Hurts her other than with words?"

"One time I got a glass of water, came back and Q was trying to fight someone off in her sleep. I thought it was the zombie movie we'd watched. I didn't think… I didn't want to think." Santana looked down, shameful tears in her eyes.

"I know the feeling," Rachel murmured tiredly. No one had wanted to think. It was too hard to think on, and everyone's own comfort might have gotten in the way of Quinn's wellbeing.

"So what do we do? How do we ask?" Santana demanded.

"I honestly don't know."

"Can't we tell Coach?" Brittany asked, tears on her face.

"Not yet. We have to be sure. If we go to Coach with this and we're _wrong_, Sue will skin us alive. After skinning an innocent Russell Fabray alive."

"Daddy Fabray might not smack Quinn around but no way is that guy innocent."

"You know what I mean, Santana."

"Well… I don't want Coach to skin us."

Rachel nodded. "So why don't we use the sleepover as an opportunity to pry? At the very least it'll make her relax a little. We need to get Quinn to trust us before asking something so liable. If she doesn't _like_ us, she'll ditch us for asking."

"And if it's true?" Santana snapped. "If her dad is more of a skeezoid than we knew? Do you really think she'd tell us?"

"We can't just leave it, San!" Rachel shouted, stomping her foot. "Everyone has left it! No one has tried to figure out what's wrong! If what we ask isn't true, then at least we asked! At least we're _trying_, when no one else has!"

"And if we try and fail?" Brittany whispered.

Rachel froze. If they failed? If they couldn't help Quinn, after trying as hard as they could?

Four hearts would break.

.

Singing had actually been fun. And it hadn't been quite as perfect as a restful time with Ms. P, but surprisingly she'd felt somewhat rejuvenated afterward. Singing at the glee club wasn't going to be a _thing_ for Quinn, but it had been a fun one-time event. Ms. P and Rachel had cheered loudest after their performance, and it had filled Quinn with a sort of pride.

Which was nice.

Quinn now had Brittany's and Santana's phone numbers tucked away in her phone. 4 numbers to weigh it down. Her phone had already buzzed twice just driving out of the parking lot. It had stopped for the rest of the drive home, but nearly as soon as she'd passed through the threshold of her house her phone had started buzzing again, this time near nonstop. When Quinn checked to see if Britt had texted her 50 times in a row, she realized that the girls had added Quinn to a group convo and now Rachel, Brittany, and Santana were texting each other and Quinn was receiving every text. They were jabbering on and on about homework. Quinn watched in disbelief until:

_Santana: I wonder if Quinn is ready to rip our heads off yet._

_Rachel: Santana! We were supposed to keep going!_

_Brittany: Dun now? Yay! Hi Q!_

Quinn snorted with laughter. They'd been trying to annoy her? What complete dorks.

It was what friends would do.

Quinn smiled to herself all through making dinner.

The happiness she felt made the idea of telling her dad about the sleepover less terrifying.

It wasn't asking permission for the sleepover _itself_ that was the problem. Since middle school Quinn couldn't think of one occurrence where her father had disallowed her to go over to a friend's. It just hadn't happened since starting high school. No, it was alerting her father to the fact that she had friends _again_. He'd wonder who they were. Of course she could easily lie, but his curiosity being piqued was never a good thing.

If he found out about Rachel, she'd get at _least_ a long lecture about perverts. More likely he'd also reroute into _Quinn_ being a pervert, which could only lead to bad places.

And if he found out about Brittany…

There wasn't any risk of him chaperoning a Cherrios trip since she'd quit, and she would never invite Britt over again, but the lingering fear still remained. That somehow, someway, her dad would find and hurt Brittany. Britt wouldn't suspect Quinn's dad capable of molesting her, and Quinn couldn't _warn_ her without everything unraveling.

Not to mention that Brittany wasn't Russell Fabray's daughter. Sex with her _wouldn't_ be a mortal sin.

Quinn couldn't let her father know that Brittany was back in her life, she just _couldn't_. That meant not mentioning Santana, either.

So… who could she say she was having a sleepover with? Hopefully her father wouldn't ask. If he did, she'd improvise.

While they sat down to dinner, Russell at the head of the table and Quinn dutifully on his right, Quinn worked up the courage to tell him her Saturday plans. Dinners were usually a silent affair. Russell sometimes filled the silence with talk of work, or more specifically, talk about all the minorities making his job harder and how they were a waste of space and breath. All Quinn had to do was tune out his words and nod whenever the inflection of his tone went up. She was never in danger of being caught, because her father never sought her opinion or even asked her questions unless it was a report card day. Her father cared about her in a purely superficial sense: with her taking control of her looks he'd become even less interested in her apart from the first week or so of rage. Now it was just grades and her body that he was after.

And the truth was, Quinn wasn't sure if that hurt more or less. Confirming that he didn't love her had been revealing, but also heartbreaking. When she was younger, she'd clung to the fact that at least her father _loved_ her. Now she knew better… and that just worked to confirm that she was unworthy of love.

Her mother had vanished from her life after her father got full custody, not even attempting to see her. Frannie hated her. The people who were meant to love her, her family, just didn't.

If the people who were supposed to love her couldn't bring themselves to there was no way anyone else could.

"Daddy?" Quinn started, hating the word on her tongue but knowing Russell liked it when she called him that. Russell looked up from his meal and smiled at her. Quinn wondered how he could so easily smile at her when he didn't care one inch about her. How it could look almost genuine if you didn't know who Russell Fabray really was.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"A… friend invited me over for a sleepover on Saturday."

"Well, that sounds fun," Russell rumbled, smile widening as he took another bite and chewed. Quinn waited politely for him to finish. "Do you need me to drop you off?"

"No dad, I have a car," Quinn forced a chuckle. _Normal family, normal banter_, she thought to herself as Russell laughed with her.

"Do I know this friend?"

Quinn swallowed. Russell was still smiling, but curiosity was making his eyes steely. Improvisation time. Russell expected Quinn to only befriend "worthy" people, which meant Christian at least, preferably Catholic. There were only two Catholic churches in Lima, on opposite sides of town. Quinn couldn't mention a parishioner at the Fabray's home church, but mentioning the other one wasn't good either because it was on the "poor" side of town, which would make Russell frown.

Other Christianity was somehow safer in this instance.

"A Cheerio I met in Celibacy club. She's new to the club, she was pretty busy with cheering, but when she got a boyfriend she just had to join."

"Oh, well that's lovely. What's her name, do we know her family?"

"She doesn't go to St. Anne's, so I don't think so."

Russell drummed his fingers against the table. "So, what's her name?"

"Tina," Quinn said quickly. Shit.

"Tina what?"

Quinn paused. She didn't know the Tina girl from Glee's last name, and she wondered if it would sound white even if she did know it. Her dad would hate it if any last name sounded "ethnic".

"Smith," she replied. _Whoa, aim lower Quinn._

"Smith? We know some Smiths. Maybe she's related."

"Maybe."

"That sounds great, Quinnie. Just keep me posted. I trust you."

Russell immediately went back to eating, but Quinn could only stare at him. _Did_ he trust her? What did that mean, exactly? Quinn wanted her dad to trust her, but-

But that meant that he knew, he _knew_ she would never tell on him. He knew that he was all-powerful, that she was terrified of him, that she was always going to bend to his will. Quinn didn't want him to _know_ that. She didn't want it to be true. But it was. Russell Fabray held all the cards, and he knew it. He knew that he had shaped her into exactly what he wanted, that she was weak and sinful and everything that he had ever called her.

She wanted to stand up and scream at him, tell him that he was wrong, that she was going to the cops, that she was telling her teachers, anything, _anything_ to not be the girl that he could _trust_.

Instead she turned back to her food and they finished the meal in silence.

After dinner she went upstairs and checked her phone. There were 83 new messages in the group text. Quinn wanted to strangle all three of her friends. Instead she wrote:

_Quinn: Time do you want me at yours on Saturday, S?_

The reply was near instantaneous.

_Santana: 3, I don't want you guys around all damn weekend._

_Brittany: U told me 1._

_Santana: B!_

_Brittany: Oh, I gt it. She said 3._

_Rachel: I'll bring vegan brownie mix!_

_Santana: And I'll sneak in some milk!_

_Rachel: Santana don't you dare._

_Brittany: Brownies! And bacon 4 Q rite?_

_Santana: Sure, if she still likes it. Q?_

_Quinn: Of course I still like bacon. Do you know me at all?_

_Brittany: Yay! Mami can make smily pancakes!_

_Rachel: Make sure to have muffins for me, then._

_Santana: Of course o princess Berry._

_Rachel: :P_

Quinn laughed as she watched the three friends joke back and forth, occasionally saying something, but mostly content to be a spectator to the love of three best friends.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry this is shorter than normal, writing Russell is exhausting and makes me angry. Even when he's being "harmless", or whatever. I just couldn't muster anymore. But have no fear! Next chapter is a sleepover! Plenty of material there. Not to mention Mami Maribel seeing Quinn after a couple years. I haven't watched Goodbye in a while so this Maribel is mostly a headcanon version, but I'm hoping she'll be received well.<strong>

**Also I have a bit of a thing for Quinn being the first to start crushing, but Rachel being the first to acknowledge and embrace that she's crushing. It just makes me smile.**


	16. Chapter 16

Quinn hadn't seen Maribel Lopez in over two years, so when she got ready for the sleepover she wore her least "Skank" outfit, a pair of jeans, plain grey t-shirt and striped sweater. She tied her short hair back into a ponytail, or what she could manage to capture in the hair tie. Any hair that snuck lose was tucked behind her ears. She wore less make-up, a neutral tone for her lips, small amount of mascara and eyeliner, a little blush. She didn't want Maribel Lopez to look at her and think she looked ridiculous. She didn't want Maribel Lopez to be _ashamed_ of her.

This was the main reason she was a fidgeting mess on the car ride over, duffle bag in her passenger's chair and cell phone tucked into her cup holder so she could hear it buzz. There were certainly other parts of the whole affair she was not looking forward to, but Maribel was first and foremost on her mind, the first hurdle. What would she think when she saw Quinn? What would she do, what would she say? Would she think Quinn was some trashy whore now? Would she cast sidelong glares, give Quinn curt answers when Quinn asked if she could please borrow a towel? Best not to even ask her questions, resign herself to making herself as small as possible in the Lopez household. Avoid the rejection, the hatred.

Quinn had _loved_ Maribel Lopez once upon a time. She didn't want to see the scorn there.

She deserved it, of course, after the way she'd treated Santana. But she'd also gone out of her way not to _have_ to interact with the Lopez mom because she'd known what to expect. Unlike most adults, who had just accepted her presence or thought of her as the picture perfect Fabray child, Maribel had treated Quinn like she treated Brittany. Almost like a secondary daughter. Of the adults that she lost after cutting off San and Britt, Mami Maribel was the only one she missed. The Pierce parents were loving, but while they were almost always home when the girls had a sleepover they often seemed startled to remember the girls were there. Mr. Lopez worked constantly. And Santana's abuela had never warmed to Quinn. She'd actually heard Abuela Alma tell Santana that Quinn was fake, and a Fabray through and through. Alma, Quinn had found, was not afraid to speak her mind. And she was also entirely correct when it came to her.

It was like diving into the deep end, seeing Mami Maribel first. It made Quinn's teeth chatter.

She parked outside of the Lopez residence and then just sat there, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel and staring straight ahead.

Her phone buzzed and she took a deep breath and picked it up.

**_What are you doing sitting outside?_**

Quinn's head shot up and she looked around. Seeing no one, she typed back.

_How do you know I'm sitting outside?_

**_Because I can see you. Can I come in?_**

There was a knock on Quinn's passenger side window. Quinn looked up from her phone to see Rachel smiling in at her. Quinn nodded.

Rachel opened the door and scooted in, pushing Quinn's duffel down into the floor. She respectfully kept her feet off Quinn's bag, crossing her ankles and putting them against the car door like she was in a job interview.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Rachel wrinkled her nose and answered, "Well, I got here after you. I noticed you were still in your car so I thought I'd walk up with you, but then you didn't get out. I waited and you just sat here. Are you alright?" Rachel's voice lowered gently. "Are you afraid to go in?"

"I'm not _afraid_," Quinn objected, razor sharp gaze zeroing in on Rachel. Rachel didn't waver, just continued to smile at Quinn. Quinn looked away, scowling. "Just… it's been a while. Since I've been over here."

Rachel nodded compassionately, and she reached out to put a hand on one of Quinn's white-knuckled hands on her wheel. When Quinn's glance shot back to Rachel warily the little diva withdrew her hand, fisting it back into her lap. Rachel turned bright red and Quinn arched an eyebrow.

"I- I'll be right behind you, Quinn. You don't have to worry. It will be a lot of fun."

Quinn let her grip loosen and she gave Rachel a small smile. Of course Rachel would rush to assure her. Eager, happy, excitable Rachel. What a dweeb. Quinn relaxed slightly and ducked her head, thinking. Maybe she could avoid Mami Maribel? Keep a low profile, not interact with her, maybe Quinn could hide out. Yeah, that could work. "Alright, let's gone in," Quinn exhaled. Rachel clapped her hands, picking up Quinn's duffel and tossing it to her as Quinn got out. While Quinn pulled out her bag and locked up her car, Rachel went back to her own car and got her own sleepover gear. To Quinn's surprise it was only a (stuffed to bursting) backpack.

At Quinn's questioning raised eyebrow, Rachel giggled and shouldered her backpack higher. "The first time I came over I brought a suitcase. I don't think I'd have heard the end of it from Santana if we hadn't gotten distracted organizing Cheerios runs. She convinced me to pack less." Rachel and Quinn started walking up the walkway and Rachel lowered her voice. "It probably helps that I actually have some stuff stored in Santana's drawers and bathroom. I'm over here so often anyway."

Quinn smiled, but she felt her stomach drop a little. She had once done the same, left brushes and toothpaste and various clothing items at both Santana and Brittany's. She'd abandoned them when she'd severed ties. Quinn could almost picture Santana burning her clothing in some sort of ritual curse.

She wasn't surprised leaving items and sharing was still so common with Brittany and Santana. B and S specifically shared pajamas, daywear clothing, food, absolutely everything. They acted like what belonged to one belonged to the other, but they always looked like themselves even when they mixed and matched clothes. Santana wearing a Brittany skirt matched it with things to make it mesh with her style, Brittany wearing a snug Santana top matched it with accessories and flowing throwovers. They never ceased to look thoroughly like themselves.

It had been less for Quinn and, she imagined, less for Rachel as well. But Quinn could imagine that they still shared sweatshirts, loaned t-shirts, borrowed and gave with the generosity of a sisterhood.

It made Quinn envious, remembering all she had lost.

She just had to keep reminding herself it was for the best.

They mounted the porch stairs, growing trepidation in her gut. Quinn had decided on hiding out, but she was still working out the particulars in her head. How to do it flawlessly?

They got to the top stair and Quinn waited for Rachel to knock. Then Rachel gave her an eager look, and Quinn realized Rachel wanted her to do it. Like it was some big deal.

Quinn felt like rolling her eyes, but she didn't. She knocked, planning to dash into the house as soon as Santana opened up, hiding in her room for the entirety of the night.

Maribel Lopez opened the door.

Quinn froze. Maribel stared down at her, a critical frown on her face. No one moved. Even Rachel had been startled into stillness. Then Maribel grabbed Quinn's chin and yanked her face upward, tilting it left and right. Quinn let her.

After a minute of horrible silent examination, Maribel snapped, "What is this? You look terrible. Why is your hair that color?" Maribel pinched one of Quinn's cheeks. "And you're pale, look, I can't even bring out any color. Are you eating? What are you eating to make you so pale?"

Quinn stood silent, not entirely sure what was happening. Sure, Maribel Lopez was _insulting_ her, but at the same time… She wasn't sure Maribel _was_.

Behind Maribel, Santana snickered loudly. Brittany giggled next to her, she at least covered her mouth with a hand to try and hide it.

"What, you don't talk now?" Maribel demanded.

"Sorry, Mrs. Lopez," Quinn murmured.

"What is this nonsense, "Mrs. Lopez", since when do you call me Mrs. Lopez? It's Mami, _mija_, did you forget the word?"

Quinn couldn't believe that Santana's mom still wanted Quinn to call her "mami", after two years of no contact. She was as stern as she ever was, but she did that with her "daughters".

Maribel turned to Santana, jerking her head at Quinn as she said, "This is how you take care of your friends, you let them turn into cotton candy?"

Santana's smile faded as she complained, "I didn't _let_ anything, Quinn-"

"My stubborn daughter, can't even take the responsibility for a rough patch," Maribel lamented, ignoring Santana's words. "Friendship is a two way street, you think it isn't?" Santana pouted.

Santana pouted, but Quinn spoke up. "It was me… my fault. Santana did her best, honest Mami Maribel."

Maribel Lopez turned back to Quinn, dark brown eyes boring into her. Even Rachel cowered a little.

Finally Maribel held out her arms. "Come here."

Quinn obeyed and Mami Maribel pulled her into a strong hug. "Ay, _mi hija_, welcome home," Maribel crooned, and Quinn felt tears spring into her eyes.

Maribel finally let go, smiling so warmly Quinn felt her ice melt in the glare of it. She turned to Rachel. "And of course I didn't forget you, _estrella_." Rachel beamed and accepted a hug cheerfully. Quinn went to join Santana, who was giving her a hesitant smile, and a still giggling Brittany.

Maribel leaned back from the hug and looked at her daughter and friends. "Now scoot, all of you." She turned Rachel towards her daughter and pushed, smacking her butt to hurry her along. "I don't want any of you girls underfoot while I make dinner." All four nodded and trampled upstairs.

Exactly one time Maribel Lopez had asked Brittany, Santana, and Quinn if they wanted to help make dinner. The ensuing chaos that resulted had gotten Santana and her friends permanently banned from the kitchen during dinner prep. The girls were given free reign after, and more leniency for breakfast and lunches, but dinner was off limits. Dinner was sacred. The rule seemed to be in effect.

Santana's room had changed since Quinn had seen it last. Gone were the soccer trophies and Mia Hamm poster, any small stuffed animals Quinn might have recognized, all the telltale signs of a girl skirting the line between childhood and teenage-dom. Her room had been painted, the light yellow color Quinn and Britt had helped her pick out the summer before high school, and Quinn recognized some of the dark furniture pieces from their trip to IKEA to look at bedroom sets and stuff their faces with cinnamon buns.

In everything's place was Cheerios paraphernalia. Cheerios trophies, pictures, pompoms, her uniform pressed and hanging on her closet door. There were a few non-Cheerios things: a Bob Marley poster, some unregulated hairsprays and makeup on Santana's vanity, some statues. A stuffed bear Quinn had never seen before, probably a gift from Brittany.

It was different, foreign. Teenage San instead of kid San. But it smelled like Santana's room had always smelled, even under the scent of new perfumes, and when Santana and Brittany plopped down on the bed it was like they were back in middle school.

Then Rachel sat down cross-legged near the foot of the bed and Brittany started to play with Rachel's hair and Quinn smiled. No, it wasn't middle school after all. But some of the changes weren't so bad.

So Quinn teased, "Geez, San, are you a Cheerio or aren't you? I can't tell."

"Sorry, Fabray, is my room just not soft grunge enough for you?" Santana snarked back. But she was smiling, and Quinn sat down next to Rachel, her back against the bed.

"Sorry, Quinnie, I'm not doing your hair," Santana said drily.

"Oh, oh, I will," Brittany said enthusiastically. "Rach doesn't mind, do you Rach?"

"But I was enjoying it so much," Rachel said glumly. When she turned and saw Brittany's frown, Rachel laughed and patted Brittany's arm. "I was joking, of course I don't mind!"

"Yay! San, scoot," Brittany said. Santana groaned dramatically and moved to the head of the bed, propping up on the pillows. Brittany got on her stomach and leaned over the foot of the bed, beginning to run her hands through Quinn's hair. After a moment she sighed. "Oh, but Quinn. You have no hair now."

"I think it's really cute," Rachel piped up before turning a bright shade of red.

"No, I agree, it's super adorable. I just can't do anything with it." Still, Brittany continued running her fingers through it, and Quinn smiled contently.

"_I_ think it looks like shit," Santana supplied from her position at the head of the bed.

"It's pretty," Brittany argued. "Like Quinn got lost in a candy factory and pink taffy got stuck in her hair."

Quinn rolled her eyes and Rachel laughed.

After a moment, Brittany said, "It's not very _Quinn_ though."

Quinn tensed. Rachel bit her lip at Quinn's sudden shift of mood. Then Quinn asked stonily, "What does that mean."

If Brittany picked up on the edge she didn't react to it. Instead she explained breezily, "Maybe it's angry you. Angry and bright, so everyone knows. But you're not angry like that anymore."

Quinn was silent but she didn't move from Brittany's gentle touch. "I'm plenty angry," she eventually replied.

"I know. But not all-over angry. Not all-over pink."

"Like a streak pink?" Rachel asked lightly. When Quinn looked at her she just smiled.

"Like… like an underlayer pink," Brittany said with a satisfactory nod.

Quinn's face remained impassive. Then a slow smile crawled across it and she asked, "Oh, yeah? What's the rest?"

"Blonde! Duh."

Quinn chuckled. "I see."

Brittany sat bolt upright. "Ohmygosh, we _have_ to do it."

"Do… what?" Quinn asked warily, turning to face Brittany.

"Your _hair_. We have to fix it!"

"Britt-"

"_Please_. I want you to look more like you."

"What if this is me?" Quinn said sharply.

Brittany looked confused by the question.

"It's not."

"How do you _know_?"

"Because I know you."

"Maybe you don't know me, Brittany, have you ever thought of that?" Quinn snapped.

Santana crossed her arms and scowled. Rachel looked nervously between Quinn and Brittany. Brittany's open face was bewildered, searching, as she looked at Quinn.

She said, "Maybe I don't know all the things that make you up. But I've got the full puzzle, I don't need to know every tiny piece to see the picture."

Quinn's bloodstream felt warm as Brittany gave her a 500 watt smile.

"And if some of the pieces… are missing?" Quinn asked uncertainly.

Brittany rolled off the bed, landing on her knees, and she crawled up next to Quinn. She looked her over, then poked Quinn in the side.

"Hey!"

"Nope. No hole there!" Brittany poked her again in a different place. "Not there either."

"Brittany, stop!" But Quinn was laughing and Brittany grinned wickedly.

"Rach, come help me look!"

Quinn laughed and squirmed as Britt and Rachel started to tickle her, falling sideways to the floor as they continued. The two kept up the onslaught until Quinn was nearly crying with laugher. They finally let up. Quinn righted herself and wiped at her eyes.

"Wanky," she heard Santana say from the bed.

"So can we?" Brittany asked, panting.

Quinn steadied her breathing. Blonde hair with pink in it? "…okay."

"Yes!" Brittany pumped the air. She stood. "Come on, come on!"

"What, now?"

"Yes!"

"Does Santana even have the supplies?" Quinn highly doubted Santana had any pink hair dye lying around.

"We're going to get it! Right, S?"

Santana groaned, flopping over onto her stomach and hiding her face in the pillows. Brittany raised an eyebrow, then said to Rach and Quinn. "Better go search my girlfriend for missing pieces."

"What, Brittany-" came Santana's muffled alarm, but Brittany had already jumped on Santana, fingers flying as they tickled the girl all over. Rachel and Quinn laughed watching the pair.

Rachel turned to Quinn. "You're okay with us doing your hair?"

Quinn thought about it and realized it actually sounded like a good idea. "Yeah. I could use a change."

Rachel beamed.

And Quinn thought about Brittany's puzzle analogy.

She wasn't saying that the pieces didn't _matter_. She was saying the pieces were already _there_, the puzzle complete. Even if Brittany couldn't see some of the pieces at all, she still saw the whole of Quinn. Could that really be true? Even without seeing the parts of Quinn that she hid so well, could Brittany see the whole picture?

No, it wasn't possible. Brittany couldn't see the side of her that was dirty and perverted. She'd have a different opinion if she knew.

Brittany virtually picked Santana up off the bed, staggering only slightly as she walked towards the door with her writhing girlfriend in her arms. Santana was blushing beet red, clearly embarrassed that Britt was not only able to bodily lift her, but that she was having difficulty breaking free. Finally Britt put Santana down, kissing her red-faced girlfriend on the cheek.

"Let's go!"

The four girls piled into Santana's car, Santana driving and Brittany shotgun, with Quinn and Rachel sitting in the back. Brittany kept mercilessly flirting with her increasingly flustered girlfriend, while Rachel and Quinn braced themselves in the background more and more fearful of car-accident-by-distraction. They kept exchanging glances with one another, laughing tightly at the mirrored anxiety on their faces.

They picked up boxes of blonde and pink hair dye and the other necessities to the activity. Quinn and Santana got into an argument about the color pink: Quinn wanted her regular color, Santana said it was shit and that she should pick another color completely. They eventually settled with Quinn's regular, ignoring a muttering Santana. Next the group wholly ignored Quinn's protests that she should pay for all of it, all three girls insisting on chipping in.

The whole trip took less than forty-five minutes even with the arguments, and they found themselves back at Santana's house before Mami Maribel had gotten to the halfway point of dinner prep. When the four girls entered through the back door, walking through the kitchen in the process, Maribel had cast them all scathing glares until they had vacated the kitchen completely.

The girls piled into the upstairs bathroom, a tight squeeze for four teenage girls. Only Quinn was uncomfortable, however. Rachel, Santana and Brittany seemed entirely comfortable being on top of one another in the enclosed space. It made Quinn feel claustrophobic, but every time Rachel caught her eyes and smiled, the oppressive feeling eased.

Rachel took charge of preparing the bleaching mixture after Brittany almost knocked it onto the floor for the third time, tasking Brittany with helping Santana find expendable towels, leaving Quinn and Rachel alone in the bathroom. Once Rachel was almost finished she turned to Quinn, eying the girl's outfit. "You should probably get out of that sweater, we don't want to ruin it."

Quinn hesitated. She didn't want any of her clothes to be bleached or dyed. She watched Rachel, who was finishing up the concoction. Despite everything that told her not to, Quinn trusted Rachel. Rachel could have taken advantage of her multiple times, including the time in the bathroom when she'd been slushied. And the girl had never overstepped.

Plus, Santana and Brittany had seen Quinn in her underwear plenty of times.

So Quinn stripped off her sweater and t-shirt, sitting on the edge of the tub in her bra and jeans.

When Rachel turned around again she nearly let the bleach concoction fall to the floor herself. Blood rushed to the little diva's cheeks. "I- I- Y-yes, that's a great idea, Quinn," Rachel stumbled, and despite herself Quinn smirked a little at Rachel's reaction. She was ridiculously cute.

Santana and Brittany returned with towels, neither one seeming particularly surprised that Quinn was now topless, and Santana put the towels on the tub rim. "Alright, let's do this," Santana said with a glint in her eye, grabbing at the brush to start painting in the bleach.

"No way," Quinn said at the same time as Rachel said, "Maybe I should do it." The two exchanged a look and Rachel blushed harder. Quinn smiled. "Yeah, let Rachel."

Santana huffed but put her hand back down. Rachel started to apply the bleach and Brittany bounced off to find a timer.

The hard part came when roughly half an hour later they had to rinse Quinn's hair. Taking a full on shower seemed like a waste of time and energy, but Quinn was again put in the situation where she had to put her head into a sink, and this time she couldn't put her face down or she'd risk bleach running into her eyes. When Rachel saw Quinn looking apprehensively between the three girls, Rachel realized what was going through her head. She didn't know why it freaked Quinn out to have water run over her head when she was facing upward, but she knew that it was a serious trigger for Quinn. So Rachel said gently, "Why don't you do the rinsing, Britt Britt?" She turned to Quinn and said softly, "You can hold onto my hand, okay?"

Quinn barely heard Rachel's quiet voice over the running of the water in the sink, which she realized was the point when neither Santana or Brittany seemed to hear, and after a long moment Quinn gave a terse nod. Quinn ducked her head under the warm stream and discreetly Rachel grabbed her hand, standing near the sink and directing Brittany so it looked like she was only supervising.

Quinn's grip tightened on Rachel's hand as Brittany started to gently rinse her hair. Brittany hummed happily, clearly enjoying that she could actually play with Quinn's hair this time around. Rachel was surprised by how strong Quinn's grasp became, but she didn't say anything as she watched Quinn's taut, strained face, eyes screwed shut and lips pressed into a thin line. Quinn held on and managed not to react the way she had in the bathroom after the slushie. Rachel puffed with happiness and allowed herself to take partial credit.

Brittany finished rinsing, shampooing, conditioning and rinsing again. Quinn sat back up, breathing hard as she righted herself, and still held onto Rachel's hand. Santana attacked Quinn's head with a towel.

The next part was applying the blonde hair dye. Rachel took charge again, but Santana insisted on helping, and then Brittany took the brush and applied the dye liberally, and Rachel had to take control finally and fix up Quinn's hair. Luckily, it wasn't hard, and they found themselves at the waiting process again in no time, Brittany setting the timer and Santana running downstairs to grab some snacks, saying that the whole process was taking too long. She came back with no snacks and a pout. Maribel had shooed her out of the kitchen and scolded her for even attempting to spoil her appetite for dinner.

Rachel held Quinn's hand for a second time as Brittany rinsed and repeated and Santana again took great satisfaction with rubbing Quinn's head with a towel.

When Quinn was again visible all three girls fussed and admired Quinn's damp mane of blonde hair. It was the first time since freshman year that Rachel had seen Quinn's hair blonde, and for the first time Rachel actually got to truly appreciate Quinn's beautiful blonde locks. Quinn looked like a grumpy, wet lion. Beautiful and fierce, with pink-tinted cheeks and dodging hazel eyes as her friends admired her.

Rachel almost regretted having to put pink dye back into Quinn's hair, she was so lovely without it, but Quinn insisted. So one last time they pulled out the dye and brush and Rachel very carefully painted Quinn's underlays pink, confining the color treatment to the hair at the base of Quinn's neck. It was going to be subtle, the way that Rachel painted it, but it would be cute. Rachel already knew it would suit Quinn nicely. Pink would peak out from under Quinn's earlobes and through the blonde at the back of Quinn's head. It wouldn't be overwhelming, like her hair had been before, but it would still give Quinn that edge to let people know to stay back, like the tints of a colorful poisonous frog.

And one last time, Quinn ducked her head under the sink to let Brittany wash her hair. Quinn's grip was still tight on Rachel, but their fingers threaded together and the tightness of Quinn's face relaxed.

* * *

><p><strong>I was going to finish and post this yesterday but got a wicked case of carpal tunnel and couldn't type. Yay, sleepover fun! They're gonna get more serious next chapter and try to follow up on what they'd planned last chapter, but this chapter I let them have fun. :P<strong>

**Also I know I compressed the process of hair dyeing in this chapter, but I wanted them to be able to do it so I said screw the rules. (and yes, I wikihowed how to dye hair).**

**Also thank you for 100 reviews!**


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